


Service Error

by delcatty_got_your_tongue



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Abandonment Issues, Break Up, Established Relationship, Eventual Happy Ending, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Growing Up, High School, M/M, Some Swearing, identity crisis
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-04
Updated: 2020-08-18
Packaged: 2021-03-05 21:09:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 24,738
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25711873
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/delcatty_got_your_tongue/pseuds/delcatty_got_your_tongue
Summary: Summary: Aoyama Motoko wants to believe that she’s a low-maintenance sort of girl. She has her own life, even without taking on the role of manager to the boys' volleyball team thank you very much: college to prep for, a part-time job at a restaurant in the city with shifts four times a week, and a house to look after. So she only sees her boyfriend for the occasional lunch and walk back home after volleyball practice. So she stays late to help clean up and toss balls so they'd finish practice faster. So what.OrFemale OC is a childhood friend of Kuroo's and Kenma's and is happy with where her life is at, until her boyfriend is smitten with the Karasuno captain.OrThis author was supposed to write a quick school life romance but it became a study on feminine acts of service and free will in a patriarchal society.
Relationships: Iwaizumi Hajime/Original Female Character(s), Kuroo Tetsurou/Original Female Character(s), Kuroo Tetsurou/Sawamura Daichi
Comments: 18
Kudos: 45





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Edit: Came back on 11 August to add in an extra scene at the Sendai gym. 
> 
> CW: Sport injury, trauma, toxic feminity
> 
> Also as a note I am a straight cis woman who last underwent a sexuality crisis like twelve years ago and have little idea what coming out would be like in Japan, but this is fic and therefore a lot of wish fulfilment and fantasy, and I’m not writing a seriously researched thing so just roll with it. 
> 
> Anyway, the background of this fic is that a friend challenged me to  
> 1\. Write a Kuroo fic  
> 2\. With a female OC  
> 3\. Make it happy. 
> 
> These are all difficult things for me given that  
> 1\. I'm a strong KuroDai shipper (and an IwaOi shipper).  
> 2\. Even though I recognise that Mary Sue is an unfairly gendered term for female protagonists and there is nothing inherently wrong with self-insert characters anyway, I still have PTSD-style flashbacks to fics written in my teen days with horrendous characterisation and I’m just not confident in my ability to write a female protagonist  
> 3\. I am very bad at writing happy things. 
> 
> I took Motoko’s name from the character in Love Hina (though I didn’t make her a kenjutsu expert) because I’ve always loved the name and the kanji behind it is just lovely. (Not a Japanese speaker but I have mediocre Chinese skills.)

Yamamoto takes a bite into the bread roll - still warm, salted butter melting ever so slightly into its fluffy surface - and makes a moan so obscene Motoko blushes to hear it. 

On cue, Tetsurou smacks his head. “ _Manners_." 

“Aoyama, will you become our official manager already?" Yaku asks as he chews. "C'mon, it's not too late, I bet the teachers won't mind." 

Motoko's lost track of the number of times she's had this conversation. "If I did, I wouldn't have time for my part-time job, and then I wouldn't have leftovers to bring you all. Besides," she says, rolling her eyes. "What you lot need is a zookeeper, not a manager." 

“We’d survive without the food. Or you could just dump Kuroo and date me instead.” 

Motoko looks Yaku up and down, as though she were seriously considering it. 

"Oi oi.” Another slap, though on Yaku's back rather than his head. “Motoko, as my girlfriend, could you please say something to defend my honour.” 

“I don’t know, Kuroo, I think I like to keep you on your toes.” 

He gasps dramatically over the snickers of his team and clasps his hands over his chest. “Betrayal! My woman would leave me, just like that!” 

“Your woman has had a very long day at work and is reconsidering many of her life decisions now, including her choice in boyfriends.” She’s grinning, sticking her tongue out so he knows she’s joking. 

He gasps dramatically again and clutches his chest, then straightens. “Give me ten minutes, and I’ll walk you back home,” Tetsurou promises. 

“Take your time,” she says and pulls out her notes from class earlier in the day. She knows she should be concentrating - god knows that she barely has time to study - but she still sneaks glances at Testuro as he gives his team their post-practice debrief. She still remembers the quiet child he had been, coming out of his shell only around herself and Kenma, and it’s still a little strange seeing how his juniors hang on to his every word. Tetsurou glances over and catches her eye, then continues to grin. She flushes, and turns back to her book, concentrating properly this time. 

She's done with the day's lesson when a shadow falls over her book. “You were staring at me just now.” 

“I was just wondering how long you were going to take.” 

“Mmhm.” 

She punches Tetsurou's arm and slips her notes in her bag. “Stop smirking." She doesn't need to crane her head up to know the expression on his face. Stupid tall people - why did she have to go fall for a volleyball player and doom herself to a lifetime of neck cricks? “Ready to go?”

“Yeah.” He turns around to his team and waves. “See y’all on Monday.” There’s some cheering when he picks up her bag and takes Motoko’s hand, motions smooth and practised as one of his receives. 

“You’d think they’d be used to us by now,” she groans as they exit the school. It's almost ten already, and there's no one else around. 

“Not until they all get girlfriends of their own, I think.” 

“Urgh. I wonder how many I could set up with my friends. Yamamoto would be a tough one I think.” 

"You spoil them." 

It's like a ritual by now. She bites her cheek, trying to stop her smile. "Maybe." 

He tucks her hand into the crook of his elbow and pulls her closer to his side. "Not that I don't appreciate it, but you should just head home once you're done with work. You must be exhausted."

“Maybe it’s _you_ I’m trying to spoil. Hold on a moment.” She reaches for the paper bag in her school bag, unwraps the multiple layers of foil, and hands over the grilled fish she had bought from the train station before walking to the school. “You need your protein after practice.” She's going to have to give her bag a good wash to get the fish smell out but it's worth it, to see Tetsurou's face light up like that. 

“I forgive you for everything. Even if you were considering dumping me for Yaku.” 

“You’re way too easy to bribe, Tetsu.” 

He doesn’t even bother to answer her jibe, just chews blissfully on the fish. 

“And I’m still not convinced you’re not an actual cat.”

“You love cats.” 

“Lucky for you.” She stands up on her tiptoes and kisses him lightly on the cheek. “How was practice?” 

“Good. We’re coming together nicely, even if Lev couldn’t receive a ball to save his life. How was work?” 

“We were busy over dinner. Got some good tips. There was this guy who was harassing Ayame, but the manager handled it.” 

He _tsks_ but otherwise doesn’t say anything about how she should quit her job, for which she’s grateful. Waitressing didn’t pay all that well, but it is still better than working at a convenience store, even if it had its hazards.

“I can’t wait to be a college student so I can just tutor high school kids.” She shifts and winces as something in her neck cracks. 

“Oh yeah. Hold this for a moment, will you?” He hands over the paper bag of fish which she takes instinctively.

“What - "

Her eyes are registering that he’s pulling out a small velvet box from his bag and is kneeling on the floor, but she isn’t sure she’s seeing this right. 

“Tetsurou, what the hell are you - "

“It’s a promise ring,” he says, all previous humour evaporated from his face. “Our final year in high school is going to be tough. We’re going to be busy all the time, and we probably won’t be seeing each other much, but we’re going to make it through this.” He grins a little. “Also, for you to wear at work. Hopefully, it gets the gross men off your back.” He pops open the lid, and she's never understood the allure of shiny things that women are supposed to universally supposed to be seduced by until that moment. Maybe because it's cradled in Tetsurou's palm. 

She has had her hands pressed to her mouth since he got down on his knee, and her voice won't work no matter how much she moves her lips.

"Motoko?" She can’t remember the last time he sounded afraid. 

"Fuck." She throws her hands around his neck, because at least her body is cooperating, even if her voice won’t. She clings to him tightly while he holds onto her back, starting and failing to get the words out. Finally, "You're such a drama queen, Tetsu." 

"You love me for it anyway." He's laughing, but she can still hear the apprehension in his voice. 

"Yeah, I do." She kisses him, even though he tastes of grilled fish, because that's just how much she loves him. "Put it on me."

She stops her stranglehold on his neck and steps back, lets him slips the ring on her the middle finger of her left hand. It's a little too big and she has to clutch it slightly to fit, but its pretty, and her boyfriend has bought it for her and she knows that she has never loved him more than in this moment. 

"I promise to not leave you for Yaku." 

"Thank you for that." 

"I can't promise that I won't kick your ass the next time we play video games at Kenma's though."

He laughs at that, his obnoxious full-body laugh that they’ll get a complaint about if it goes on for too long, and she only wants this moment to last forever. 

"You're coming over to study tomorrow, aren’t you? I'll be doing gyudon for lunch."

"My heart and stomach are ready." 

"I knew it. You only love me for my cooking."

"Definitely." She smacks his arm, but only lightly, then reaches to take his hand again, passing him his fish with her other hand. He finishes it just as they arrive at the station. On the train, there are thankfully seats and she leans in on his shoulder, glad to finally be off her feet. 

Tetsurou smells of grilled fish and sweat and warm skin, now a strangely comforting mixture. She knows she’s no bouquet of roses either at this time of the night, but he leans in close. 

"You're headed to Miyagi during Golden Week for your training camp, aren't you?" she says, twining her fingers with his. They have their bags on their laps so nosy commuters will have to squint hard to spot this inappropriate display of physical affection whilst they’re both in school uniforms. 

"Yeah. Back to back practice matches with schools in the area, ending with Karasuno High.” His thumb rubs slow circles over the back of her hand. 

"Give them hell." 

"Well, how can I not, now that you've asked me?”

"How was Miyagi?” Motoko asks the pile of clothing barely pretending to be a human body slumped at the table. 

Her parents are away, again _,_ and Tetsurou is over for dinner and to catch up on overdue homework. She wonders sometimes at how neither of their families have ever said anything about the two of them being alone in an empty house, and has decided that she's not going to complain about it.

"I'm never going to bitch about running laps around school again," Tetsurou says, waving a hand. "Not after running up and down those mountains." 

Motoko winces. "Sounds rough. How were the practice matches?" 

"Won all of them." 

"Gave them hell?" 

"I might have intimidated some opponents when I heard them shit talk Kenma." 

She nods approvingly. "Good boy." 

He straightens a little and fiddles with a pen. "Karasuno was interesting. I told you about our school's rivalry with them, right?"

"Mm. The one whose coach was friends with Coach Nekomata right?" 

"I think our coach wants to invite them over for the summer training camp." 

"The one with Fukurodani? Can you do that? They're not even in our region." 

"It'll be good. Shake things up a little." He has a sly smile on, as though laughing at a private joke. "They've got some _very_ interesting first years, and a captain who's way too easy to annoy."

"Did you get his number so you can send him memes at weird times in the day?" 

"No, but now I really wish I had."

"And people call you the provocation expert." She reaches over to ruffle his hair. "Okay, genius, how do you do problem number four? I keep getting it wrong." 

Aoyama Motoko wants to believe that she’s a low-maintenance sort of girl. She has her own life, even without taking on the role of manager to the boy's volleyball team thank you very much: college to prep for, a part-time job at a restaurant in the city with shifts four times a week, and a house to look after. Technically, she doesn’t _need_ this part-time job, but she’d feel more comfortable going to college with more savings in her bank account, especially since she’s planning to live close to campus. Her parents are perpetually busy flying in and out of the country, so cleaning and cooking duties fall to her if she wants to not live in filth and starve. It’s how she’d met both Kuroo and Kenma as kids - deposited over at the neighbour’s houses while she was still deemed too young to look after herself.

So she has her own life. She has her own friends she can sit with during lunch. She doesn't play volleyball competitively anymore but can still run a mean lap around the school and drops by the girls team practice to give advice from the sidelines if asked by her juniors and former teammates. She’s content to meet her boyfriend in school for the occasional lunch and on weekends for study sessions in lieu of actual dates - he helps her with Science and Math while she's the History and classical Japanese expert. Sometimes they take early morning runs around the school track before the first class. She’s happy to head home with him after he finishes volleyball practice and she gets off work, even if it is a little out of the way to head back to school. 

Senior year is a marathon, not a sprint. She knows to pace herself to avoid burning out.

So the Inter High Preliminaries are coming up in less than a month and her boyfriend can't spend much time with her while her friends go to the cinema or cute cafes. She's a big girl, she can deal with it. And after Nekoma loses, she knows that they have the Spring Inter High to train for to guarantee a spot at nationals. She's played sports. She knows how important it is, and how much time it can take. Lord knows that she and Tetsurou barely saw each other outside of their daily runs when they were both training for nationals the year before. 

And if it means his practices drag on later, and she sometimes stays to help toss balls or pack up and the boys and even old Coach Nekomata won’t stop asking her about becoming an official manager, she understands. And when Yukie and Kaori from Fukurodani ask if she'll drop by the annual Summer Training camp to help out with the cooking, she asks her manager if she can have a couple of days off work packs her bag and takes the train to school after finishing a lunch shift. She hasn't seen the Fukurodani kids since they all went out for movies over the last spring break, so she tells herself that it's as much about seeing Tetsurou as it is her friends, even if she's going to have to cram her summer homework while she's there. 

"Hey," she says to the girls when she enters the gymnasium and waves a hand at Bokuto and Akaashi milling around the other side of the gym. Bokuto's answering yell traverses the entire court and she catches more than one player wincing at the noise. 

"Nekoma's playing against Karasuno," Kaori says, jerking her chin in the direction of the team. 

She takes a quick glance at the score and whistles. "Karasuno's getting trashed." 

"Yeah, they've lost every round they played so far today." 

"Tetsu - Kuroo was saying something about them having interesting first years?" 

"Not sure who he's talking about. They haven't had any of them stand out at this point."

"So." Yukie has her fox-like grin plastered all over her face. " _Tetsurou,_ huh?" 

She bends to fiddle with her bag, pretending to look for something. She knows she’s not fooling them. "We're childhood friends, it's not a big deal." 

“Mmhmm. Don't think I haven't noticed the new ring,” Kaori adds, and Motoko clenches her left hand on instinct. 

"Oh my god, a ring? Is it from Kuroo?" 

She's saved from any further embarrassment by _Bokuto_ , of all people, clambering up towards her like a bird on land. 

"Hey hey hey Aoyama! Here to watch your boyfriend get trashed by yours truly?" 

"Good to see you too," she laughs, jumping up to high-five his palms, the brat raising them over his head. "It's been a while." 

"Your jump's as good as ever! Help me with blocking practice tonight?" 

"I'm here to help the girls out, not you. Go bully your juniors into practice.” 

"Bokuto, it's almost time for our next match." Akaashi pops out of nowhere and drags Bokuto away by the sleeve. "See you at dinner, Aoyama." 

"Have a good match!"

The referee's whistle cuts through the gym, and she watches the Nekoma and Karasuno players cross the court to shake hands. 

“Does Kuroo know you're here?” Yukie asks. 

"I thought I would surprise him." 

A light slap on her back. “Go get your man, then."

Tetsurou’s still on the court, hand clasped in a tight grip with one of the Karasuno players. Captain trash talk, she supposes. 

“I told you we would win the next match,” Tetsurou snarks. 

“We won’t lose the next one then.” The Karasuno captain is smiling so tightly his eyes are closed into slits, probably squeezing into the handshake one more time for good measure before letting go. "I think you have someone looking for you." 

"What?" Tetsurou turns to face Motoko. It takes a half-second for him to register her face, and then another half-second of fleeting emotions - surprise, and then something that she doesn't quite catch before he smiles broadly. 

"You told me you didn't think you'd be able to make it this year!" 

"The girls asked me to." 

"Oh, so when the girls ask you, you come?" 

"You never told me you wanted me here," she teases. She’d missed this banter between them. Conversation lately had been all business; reports on his practices and complaints about juniors, and her boring updates on work and class. 

"I always want you with me," he says, grin widening when he takes in her flush. She'll let him win this one. 

He doesn't lean down to peck her on the cheek the way he usually would - they're still in public, too many people around watching them, including his own team.

“You should get back to your team before Coach starts yelling at us.” 

“You’ve got him wrapped around your finger, and you know it,” he says, putting a hand on his hip. “But you’re right, captain duties call. What’s for dinner?” 

“Fried rice,” she says automatically, and then blinks. “Truly, you’re only dating me for my cooking.” 

“You could get any of the boys here to date you for your cooking alone. Take it as a compliment.” 

“Kuroo!” Yaku yells. “Stop talking to your girlfriend and get your ass here!” 

“Duty calls,” he says, giving her a two-fingered salute. 

“Try not to piss anyone else off today.” 

“You have far too little faith in me.”

Because she’s too busy watching him go, it takes her a moment to realise that the entire gymnasium is staring at her. Resisting the urge to kick Tetsurou in the shin - who is of course, shameless as ever and doesn't even bat an eye at Yaku’s glare - she flees for the kitchens instead. 

There's a huge container of day-old rice sitting in the fridge, just as she'd asked Yuki and Kaori to leave. She starts prepping for it, figuring that she’d just keep trying up consecutive batches of rice as the boys stream in from their practice matches, so she should work on having all the ingredients prepped as she plugs herself into music. Butter. Onions, garlic, carrots, luncheon meat, mushrooms, spring onions, a mix of soy sauce, mirin. Eggs. A lot of eggs. Big jugs of green tea, which she sticks in the fridge. 

“Looks like you’ve got everything ready,” Yukie calls as Motoko's fries up the onions and garlic, filling the entire kitchen, and probably the dining space outside with its smell. It's comforting, homely."Anything we can do to help?" 

"It would be great if you could prep the salads!" 

"Gotcha. Also, these are the Karasuno managers, Kiyoko and Yachi." 

Motoko lowers the heat of the wok so she can stick her head out the door. "Welcome to the madhouse! Aoyama Motoko here. Help yourself to the tea in the fridge." 

The dark-haired girl - a third-year, she guesses, bows her head. "Thanks for all your hard work. I'm Kiyoko." 

"Yachi Hitoka! Nice to meet you." 

"I'll say hi properly later!" She ducks back into the kitchen and gets back to work. 

She hates cooking for herself, but there's a certain joy she takes in feeding others, even if it means she's basically preparing dinner for some seventy-odd people, and most of them feral boys who will ask for third and fourth helpings. It does mean she's on her feet for the next two hours as the boys stream in - barking orders to the other girls in the kitchen to prep more rice or retrieve more eggs from the back when needed. 

And when they're finally done, there's all the washing up to do. 

She realises then how she's been behaving. It's one thing to give orders to Yukie and Kaori, who she's known since high school, but Kiyoko and Yachi are complete strangers. Yachi looks petrified, and she wonders if her dictatorship has traumatised the first year. 

"I'm really sorry for my behaviour!” she says, clasping her hands together and bowing deep. “I’m not this mean all the time, I swear.” 

"Aoyama runs a tight ship here," Yukie says, grinning. "I can't sneak extra helpings for myself when she's in the kitchen."

“Yukie, you eat as much as any of the boys out there!” 

Kiyoko just nods, acknowledging the apology, and Yachi seems very slightly mollified. She hopes. 

"The boys say that your cooking's as good as ever, and want to know when you're going to open a restaurant," Kaori calls over the counter, stacking a container of dirty dishes "We'll handle dinner tomorrow. Go join their evening practice then."

"Aoyama, you play volleyball too?" Yachi truly is a first-year - all wide-eyed and eager to please, keeping up the chatter as they scrub down the dishes. 

Something in her aches, and she's wants to snap at Kaori for bringing it up. She forces the smile on her face before she turns to Yachi. "I was in our girl's team last year, but decided to give it a break for senior year." 

"And you're now the Nekoma manager?" 

"Ehhhh, more like the big sister to a gang of smelly, uncouth toddlers. I just drop by once in a while to help." 

She suspects that the girl would ask more, but something in her expression seems to stop her. "What's being a manager for Karasuno like?" she says, trying to change the subject, hoping to make up for her earlier brusqueness. It works, and Yachi seems to brighten up as she tells her about how she ended up the first-year boys' involuntary tutor. 

The next evening, she's shooed out of the kitchen after she helps with the meal prep. " _Go_ ," Kaori says, and it's unfair that someone a head shorter than her can look so intimidating. 

She changes into her shorts, slips on her ankle guard, brings her volleyball shoes and heads to the gyms, finding the Nekoma and Fukurodani boys in the first one. 

"Hi," she says awkwardly by the side of the door, remembering how just a year ago she would have stormed into the gym and picked up a volleyball without any kind of fear. How have things changed so quickly?

"Hey hey hey, Aoyama!" Bokuto, as usual, can be heard all the way from the other end of the gym, and she has no choice to come in now. "Here to help me block my spikes?" 

Her ankle aches in phantom pain, but she keeps a smile fixed on her face. "I'll just toss balls for your practice." 

"Traitor," Tetsurou teases as he crosses to her, holding her hand and kissing her on the cheek. "You'd help them but not your own school." 

"I can spike balls into your face as well if you'd like." 

There's a collective _oooooh_ from those listening. 

"Fighting words, there." 

She regrets the threat the second it falls out if her mouth and crash lands on the court. Of course he would rise to the challenge, and she would in turn. That's just how their relationship goes. "Maybe later," she says, and he nods, understanding as always, knowing whenever she doesn’t want to explain herself. 

And it's later, when she's picking up balls with Akaashi when he asks her the question. 

"Aoyama-san." Akaashi is quiet and polite as always, barely audible over the shouts of the other players. "Why did you stop playing volleyball?"

And it might be because she's feeling more than a little nostalgic, the heft and weight of the volleyballs she sends over to Bokuto familar in her hands, varying her tosses like in a match. It might be because it's Akaashi, who she knows will take everything she says seriously, whose honesty can hurt but is never deliberately cruel, she knows she can say it, even if she hasn't even talked about it to Kenma or Testuro. 

"I got injured in my last match," she says. "You heard about that?" 

He nods. 

"We were at deuce. And I'd jumped high enough to block the incoming spike and managed to push the ball over the net, but I landed wrong. Banged up my knee, twisted my ankle. It wasn't bad, but it could have been worse. I didn't get to play the next match and we were out after that." 

She stops, bending down to pick up a ball from the floor. It takes her a couple of times to get it right. Her hands are shaking, she realises. Stupid. Another part of her realises that her callouses, built up from years and years of practice, are almost all gone. 

"Every time I jump now, I'm back in that moment just before I fell. I keep thinking about what I'm going to hurt next, if I'll break something properly then. How can I play if I'm always afraid of falling? So I left." 

She braces herself for Akaashi's reply, each word like a spike to her chest. Even though she knows what he will say, it doesn't feel any less like judgement. "You ran away." 

"Yes." 

He nods. "Do you miss it?"

She snorts. "Enough to help you boys with practice, that's for sure." But not to get over this stupid fear, it seems. 

"Let's do a quick round together." He has a rare smile on his face, and not for the first time, she's struck at how pretty the boy is. "Two-on-two. It'll be fun." 

"The two of us against Bokuto and Kuroo? A little unfair, don't you think?" 

"Neither of them can set very well. It should even out." He catches her hesitation. "You didn't come here just to toss balls at Bokuto, did you?"

Of course not, she wants to say. She wouldn't have brought her shoes, or her ankle guard if she hadn't planned to do more than that. 

But why then does she still hesitate? "Fine, fine." 

It'll be alright, she tells herself as Akaashi calls Tetsurou and Bokuto over. Bokuto's already hooting with excitement, and she ignores the worried look Tetsurou is giving her as she runs through her warm-ups. It's not like with her old team, where there'd have been pressure to do everything perfectly - especially as one of the senior players. It's a friendly match with two of the best players in the region. She's not expected to win or hold a team together, even if she can sense the audience gathering at the sides of the court. 

"We serve first," Akaashi tells her. "Do you want to do it?" 

She swallows. Baby steps. "You go first." 

He nods and takes the ball to the back of the court.

"Kick their asses, Akaashi!" Someone - she thinks its Konaha - shouts from the side. She takes a long breath, shuts out all noise. No pressure.

There's the familiar sound of flesh hitting a ball, shoes squeaking against the court. 

"Nice serve!" she shouts. Tetsurou's already retrieved it - because of course, and he's tossing towards Bokuto. She's already moving - a straight shot, she thinks, going by the set of his shoulders. Too late to block, but she extends her arms to receive.

There's that familiar impact against her wrists jarring her to her bones and the ball is up in the air again. 

“Chance ball!” she screams, knowing Akaashi is already on it. 

“Toss it high!" she yells, moving closer to the net for a spike. Akaashi's already tossing the ball toward her and she's leaping up to catch it - 

And the moment she bends her legs to spring up, she feels the slow pull of gravity dragging her back down, her ankle welling in pain, panic clawing its way in her lungs. 

_Too low,_ she thinks numbly. She can barely graze the ball with her fingertips. It's not a spike, can barely be considered a toss as she pushes the ball over the net. And it's only because the other two weren't expecting that - Tetsurou at the back open for a receive, Bokuto at the front of the net but with his arms stretched up high to block, not to the side - that it makes it through, landing weakly on the other side of the court. 

She remembers to bend her knees as she lands on the ground, tries to breathe.

A jump. It was just a jump. Her ankle is fine. 

"Sorry," Akaashi apologises. "That toss was a bit too high." 

She’s not going to cry. "More like I'm not jumping high enough." 

"I'll toss it lower next time. It makes sense that you're rusty." 

She grimaces, hating the reminder, even if she knows its true. 

She takes the next serve, shutting out the noise from the crowd. Holds the ball out in front of her, trying to recall that absolute clarity she felt during her serves just a year ago. 

She spins the ball and motions to flick it up, but it feels like her feet are rooted to the ground. 

She can't do this, she realises, panic erupting in her chest again. 

She switches to an underhand serve instead, aiming it squarely on the corner of the court, but Tetsurou is already there, retrieving it.

And her feet are already moving closer to the net. If she can't jump, she can at least do this. 

_Realistically,_ even if she were in peak condition, she and Akaashi wouldn't be able to hold a candle to Tetsurou and Bokuto together. The combined attack and defence prowess of the duo is more than anything she can handle, even if Akaashi is a fine setter. And there is of course, the extreme height difference. 

But that doesn't mean she likes losing. 

So if she can’t jump, she gets creative. Feints and dump shots - anything that doesn't require her to jump as high once she has the ball in her hands. 

Bokuto sends spike after spike that she can't block and it takes a few fumbled misses when Akaashi agrees to take the front of the net to block while she does the back. She does her best to dig deep and receive, but Bokuto's range is too large and she can't cover the court as well as she should. 

"You wouldn't be so fast if it weren't for your stupidly long legs," she snarks at the two boys.

Tetsurou leers over her with his shit-eating grin. "And yet, here we are." He jerks his head to the side where Kenma is keeping score. 24 - 13. 

_Fuck._ She doesn't care that he's her boyfriend and the love of her life. She’s going to wipe that grin off his smug face, if it's the last thing she will do. 

The next time Akaashi receives the ball shes's already running towards the net and about to leap. As though he'd already known this was going to be different, he tosses it high - higher even than his first one. She jumps, arms stretched to smash the ball toward Tetsurou's smirking face.

Her palm connects. 

The ball misses its mark, landing at his side instead, before he's even had enough time to react. 

She lands - clumsily, almost forgetting to bend her knees to absorb the fall, but the shock of pain is worth it for Tetsurou's stunned expression. Then it transforms into a sly smile. "That's not going to get past me next time."

"Fuck you too," she snarks wittily. 

Then it occurs to her that she has just jumped. Really, really jumped.

"This is going to be ironic, coming from me," Akaashi says, patting her on the back. "But stop overthinking."

She makes a noise that is half-laugh, half-sob. "I'm trying." 

"If it helps, just focus on making those two shut up." 

She turns to look at the score, and then the smug expression back on Tetsurou's face. 

"I'll serve properly this time," she says, taking the ball. 

Akaashi snorts as he hands it over. "The two of you have such a strange relationship." 

"I like to think that we bring out the best in each other." 

She positions herself at the end of the court. Holds the ball forward to measure the distance, its weight and size comfortingly familiar in her hands. Breathes evenly. Focuses on Tetsurou's stupid face on the other side of the court. She can do this. 

The ball rises in the air, spinning. She jumps to meet it. Brings her palm down to spike. 

It crashes down on the other side, landing in Tetsurou's extended arms. 

He's already yelling for Bokuto. "Chance ball!" 

It’s a poor receive though, spinning out of control as it sails through the air. Bokuto fumbles for the ball as she dashes towards the net. She counts under her breath as he brings his hand down and jumps, keeping her hands forward and extended the way Tetsurou has patiently coached her since they were children. 

It slams against her hands, rebounds back into his side of the court. Tetsurou dives to catch it but it's already bounced once, twice by the time she lands back on the court. 

She wants to shriek. Dance around the court and pump her fist in the air as obnoxiously as she can, the way Bokuto always does. 

A part of her reminds her that the only reason why this is working is because it's only a two-on-two and the other two boys were probably going easy on her, knowing about her nerves and previous injury. 

She wants to scream anyway. 

"Nice kill," Akaashi says, stoic as ever, but she knows he’s smiling under that mask. “And that was a good serve too.” He tosses her the ball. “Get us another one.” 

She catches it and moves to the back to serve. Exhales, pictures the motion of the ball and where it will land. 

She jumps, hand flying - 

And the ball doesn’t go _over_ the net, but straight into it. 

There’s that urge to scream again, but for entirely different reasons. 

“Sorry,” she says to Akaashi whilst Bokuto whoops on the other end of the court. Her shoulders slump. It’s just a practice match, she tells herself. Nothing to be disappointed about. She held her own, and was really getting into it at the end but she still wants to cry. 

"You did it," Akaashi says, holding the words up like a trophy, and she doesn't understand. 

"We were trashed." 

"But you jumped, without thinking of falling." 

On the other side of the court, Bokuto is already calling for Akaashi. She blinks, taking in the boy's words and the last few minutes of the match and in that time, Tetsurou crosses over with his stupidly long legs and lifts her up to spin her, pressing a kiss to her forehead when he brings her down. 

She carries that moment of being in the air with her to bed.

The rest of the training camp passes in a blur. Tetsurou is stuck in what he calls captain meetings after the late night practices. 

"You're just going to try to swindle everyone out of their money with poker aren't you?” 

"Money, _and_ their dignity.” 

"Please don't steal their clothes from them.” 

"Motoko, I would never.” 

She's having fun with the other girls, taking turns to go on grocery runs and cooking, and filling up water bottles at the tap while they chatter about their teams, and then staying up late as they try to get all their summer homework completed. She steals time going into the evening practices when she can, until it feels like she's got her underhand serve accuracy back, and the thought of jumping doesn't give her a nervous breakdown anymore. 

It’s a summer well-spent, she thinks. It passes too quickly. 

"Hey, anyone seen Kuroo?” 

“I think he’s saying bye to the Karasuno team with Nekoma and Fukurodani,” 

She hasn’t said goodbye to Shimizu or Yachi either, she realises, too busy packing up the barbecue things. She dashes to the school entrance, only to see the white bus pulling away slowly, the boys waving to them off. 

She skids to a stop, trying to take in the look on Tetsurou's face as the Karasuno team leaves. She hasn’t seen him look this soft in a while. Not since they'd started dating. 

She follows Tetsurou's gaze and - oh. _Oh._ Well. That wasn't what she'd been expecting at all. 

Kiyoko yes, she understands. The girl is beautiful, like a princess from a medieval poem. Even Yachi - she didn’t think she was his type, but she could see the appeal.

But the Karasuno captain?

She’s seeing things. She has to be. 

Tetsurou turns and sees her. "Wait for me and we'll go home together?” he says, ignoring the catcalls the other boys are making. 

She’d asked him about it once, how he could dare be so openly affectionate in front of them. “They’re jealous,” he’d replied simply. “And who wouldn’t be?”

Yes. Definitely her imagination running wild. "Of course." 

Aoyama Motoko wants to believe she's low-maintenance. She’s always taken pride in her independence. She learnt to cook from Kenma’s and Tetsurou’s mothers so she could feed herself in her absentee parents’ wake, then learnt to take joy in feeding others. She has her own passions, her own joys and ambitions, and she doesn’t need Tetsurou’s approval to validate them. And she's never had any patience for the girls in her class who would complain about their boyfriends talking to other girls. So she doesn’t want to think that her boyfriend has a crush on his rival captain just because she thinks she saw him look googly-eyed for a moment. 

Annoyingly, she still notices things, and then wonders if she’s just being stupid now that this suspicion has rooted itself in her mind. He takes a longer time to answer her text messages. He's always talking about the Karasuno team - poking Kenma for updates he gets from the tiny freshman they have, or just updating her on things that the Karasuno captain has said. 

She has to do a number of other shifts to make up for her time at the training camp, and then _again_ if she wants to head to Shinzen for the next one. The summer crowd means each shift gets busier than before as well. Most days, she ends work too tired to drop by the school and heads home directly. 

And then she's taking a train to Sendai after work, still smelling of grease and stale food because she's an idiot, instead of just staying home to rest because this way she can spend at least some time with him. She’d missed the first day of training because of work, but is already planning the dinner and breakfast menu. Nikujaga perhaps, with tonjiru soup instead of standard miso for more vegetables and flavour. Pancakes in the morning, because Bokuto had begged her to make them at the last camp. 

She’s been to Shinzen High at the previous camps as well so knows the campus well enough to get to a bathroom to change out of her work clothes, and then heads to the gymnasiums, slipping quietly into the one where she spots the familiar red uniform.

“Aoyama!” Yaku calls. “I thought you weren’t coming.” 

“I had to skip the first day because of work,” she explains, then pauses. “Kuroo didn’t tell you all?” 

“Ah. No, no he didn’t.” 

Weird. Weirder still is how shifty Yaku is behaving. “Um. Everything alright?” 

“Yeah, yeah definitely! You know where to put your things, right?” 

“Yeah. Who are you all up against next?” 

“Karasuno.” 

“I’ll go say hi to Kuroo before I go start the dinner prep then.” 

“Um. Sure.” 

She wants to think that she’s imagining things. Tetsurou seems pleased to see her as usual, and is overjoyed to hear her promise to make a small portion of grilled fish for him. She spots Bokuto and Akaashi standing by the side, gulping from their water bottle. 

“Hey!” she waves. Bokuto’s already shouting her name, while Akaashi waves back.

“How are you doing?” Bokuto asks her. “We didn’t think you’d be here!” 

“Why is everyone telling me that?” she laughs. Akaashi sips quietly on his drink, looking like he’d rather be anywhere but there. Bokuto spots someone else across the gym and dashes in that direction. 

"What's going on?” she asks Akaashi, because she knows she can always trust him to tell the truth. "Why are people treating me like my parents have died or something?" 

A long sip of water. He doesn’t look up from his bottle as he replies "I think people are just concerned about how you're feeling, after your break up."

She blinks. "My what?" 

Akaashi very rarely shows any kind of emotion, but she thinks she can _feel_ how his brain goes into overdrive as his face takes on the pinched pained expression that usually comes about when Tetsurou and Bokuto are together. 

“ _Breathe_ , Akaashi,” she says automatically. And then, just because she’s not entirely sure, she says “I thought I heard you say my break up.” 

He hesitates. “That is what I said.” 

“Has Kuroo told people that?” _Have_ they broken up? He’d been fine, just a couple of minutes ago. Normal. They were fine, she thought. 

“No, but.” He looks far more uncomfortable than she’s ever seen him, even with Bokuto’s antics. “We just assumed that that was the case, especially when you weren’t here yesterday. We didn’t want to ask.” 

“ _Why_ would you assume that?” 

As if on cue, she hears Tetsurou’s hyena laugh crash through the entire gymnasium. “Sawamura, _what_ was that attack?” 

“I’ll get you next time!” is the response from the Karasuno captain. 

Oh. 

_Oh._

She turns to Akaashi. His refusal to meet her in the eye says everything. 

"Hey."

"Yo." She winces at herself, the overly casual tone sounding fake even to her own ears. "Put the entire zoo to bed?" 

"Kenma's probably still awake playing video games, but I guess we can't blame him since we're both still up." 

Tetsurou's already leaning down, a casual half-smile on his face. She places a hand on his chest to stop him - and _ah,_ that will probably be the last time she gets to feel that. It’s a dumb thing to miss in the grand scheme of things, but she isn’t quite sure she’s herself at the moment. 

"I think we should break up," she says, and her words come out even and steady as she’d practiced. 

He blinks and takes a step back. She feels like a complete ass for doing this out of the blue, but she thought it through as she prepped dinner, and when she bounced balls repetitively against a wall, unable to bring herself to step into the gymnasium to face him. She thinks then that maybe she should have waited to spring this on him, maybe after training camp. Or after qualifiers. Or after nationals. She doesn't know if it would be more or less cowardly to wait. She doesn't know what the right thing to do is. 

He places a hand on his neck, casualness as forced as hers. "Is it because I'm spending too much time training?"

This is not a conversation she wants to have. But before they dated they were friends, and Motoko supposes that the least she can do is walk him through this.

"No," she says slowly. "I just... don't think that we should stay together if you like someone else more than me." 

She sees the way his jaw tightens slightly, even if the expression on his face doesn't change. It’s the same look he has when he tries to cover for Kenma when the boy he's hidden from adults. 

"What are you talking about?" 

She wants to cover her face with her hands so she doesn't have to look at him. She wants to run away. 

"I think - " She twists her fingers into her clothes, words choking up her throat when the ring he's given her glints in her hand. "And please tell me if I'm wrong, and then we can laugh this off and pretend that this never happened. But I think that you like Sawamura." 

She finally glances up, and she knows she's right from the way his face is mask-still. 

He’s still silent, chewing on his tongue. So she forces the words out. "And I think he likes you too." 

"What?" 

“It’s… It’s pretty obvious. I think the entire team knows it at this point.” _And treats me like I’m made of eggshells,_ but she knows her sourness isn’t directed at them. They were just being kind, in their own way. She wants to choke out a laugh to lighten the mood but she thinks he would see through it anyway. “Do you?” 

She needs to hear the confirmation from him. Needs to know she isn’t crazy. 

“Yeah.” He huffs out a breath. “I do.” 

“More than you like me?”

He flinches, then takes another long breath. “Yes.”

“Right.” She covers her face in her hands, tries to discreetly wipe away the tears that she can feel welling up. 

“Motoko, I didn’t want to say anything because I didn’t want to hurt you. And... And I didn’t want you to think I’m weird.” 

“Tetsu, you moron.” She tries to smile, telling herself how selfish she has been. Here, one of her longest and oldest friends is probably undergoing his own identity crisis and she’s only been able to think about her own happiness. “Hate to break it to you, but you’re already weird.”

He laughs a little at that, the quiet laugh that she rarely ever hears, and that’s how she knows he’s close to tears too. She needs to set aside her own feelings now. 

“Did you know people thought we’d broken up? I guess that’s how compatible you and Sawamura are! I mean, we're still best friends, even if you don't want me as your girlfriend anymore!” She punches his arm, and the motion at least feels natural in this surreal conversation. She’s done it hundreds of times before, as familiar and practised as the toss of a ball. "I still want to support you in everything and I would totally be kicking Sawamura's ass if he didn't like you back!"

“Motoko.” He catches her hand gently. “What do _you_ want?" 

But it didn't matter what she wants, does it? She wants to spit the words out, spiteful and venomous so she can make him understand the turmoil she has felt since Akaashi spoke to her. What she wants is Kuroo Tetsurou to have and hold for the rest of her life but he didn't want her or love her the same way she did. Then it only makes sense to end things now.

Very briefly, she has a fantasy of telling him that she wants them to stay together. Of Tetsurou loving her enough to say yes and things stay the same as they will. They will graduate from high school. They will go to the same university. He’ll spend weekends at her apartment and she can wake up to her fingers curled around his bedhead and make them pancakes for breakfast. 

It’s a pretty dream. She sees it as clearly as she knows that it can’t happen, not anymore. She knows with certainty that he loves her enough to _try._ That he _has_ been trying, unfeigned affection when they call each other briefly before going to bed each night, even as he is tired from practice and her from work. And she knows with equal certainty that she can’t keep him.

"I want to break up. And I want us to stay friends after this." It's half true, at least. "And I want you to be happy, whoever it is you end up with.” And _this_ is true, every word of it.

He smiles, and it feels like the only thing that's gone right. 

“Friends?” he asks, sticking a hand out. 

“Always,” she says, taking it to shake. The moment passes and she pulls back and slips the ring from her finger to place on his palm. Closes his fingers around it and then turns to go so she can cry alone. 

Her eyes are swollen and red-rimmed when she wakes at five in the morning, but she'd promised she'd make pancakes, so that's what she'd do before she begs off and takes the train back home so she can cry some more in the privacy of her room and feel sorry for herself. She just needs to get through the next three hours. The kitchen door then swings open, and there's one of the players at the doorway. 

"Oh." 

The boy ducks behind in and grabs some ice cubes from the freezer, and pulls out a towel to wrap the ice with. 

"It's clean, I promise," he says, smiling. "May I?" 

It's one of the Karasuno boys, she realises from the uniform. The pretty silver-haired vice-captain. She nods, and he begins dabbing at her eyes with the ice cubes. 

"I'm Sugawara Koushi. You're Kuroo's girlfriend, aren’t you?" 

"Ex-girlfriend," she mumbles and can feel the tears welling up again. She swipes at her face angrily before the tears can fall. 

"Ah." He stops dabbing at her eyes and steps back. "I'm sorry to hear that. Do we need to kick his ass extra hard in court or something?" 

"No no. He just likes someone else, is all. The heart wants what it wants, right." She rubs her eyes again and oh god, she's _sniffing,_ it's too early in the morning for this. 

"Ah. You mean Daichi." 

She clasps a hand to her mouth immediately, frantically wondering when she had mentioned a name, or even hinted at a gender. 

The boy just laughs at her panic. "It's fine, it's fine. I'm Daichi's best friend so I notice things even if the dumbass doesn't. And the two of them have had enough UST between them you could cut with a knife since they met." He hesitates then, and adds. "I’m sorry about your relationship though." 

"It's fine," she says automatically. It's fine. It really is. It's not like Tetsurou had cheated on her or anything. He’s just fallen in love with someone else and it really _really_ didn’t matter that it is a guy. Someone bigger and taller and burlier and stronger than her. Who gives off ‘dependable captain’ vibes on steroids. 

Briefly, she wonders if that’s why he couldn’t love her, and tries to shake off that thought. 

"No, it's not," Sugawara says gently. "You're not."

"I just have a couple of hundred pancakes to make in the next two hours. I'll try not to drip snot on anything.” 

“You’re like the unofficial Nekoma manager at this point.” 

She sighs. "I'm not their manager. I just... help out sometimes." 

"That's really nice of you." 

"Mmm. Yes. Nice is one way to put it." _Stupid_ would be another, she thinks. No. Not stupid. She can’t think of it all as wasted time. "I like cooking, and I'm friends with the Fukurodani managers and some of the boys, so it's not like it's a huge amount of effort - " 

"Aoyama, as amazing as that is, there's a difference between cooking for a group of friends and serving up two hundred pancakes before dawn." 

That stings for reasons she doesn't even want to think about. So she does what she does best with difficult conversations: deflect. She rolls her eyes, dabbing at them with the towel as she pretends to ice it. She knows she’s not fooling anyone, but she needs to at least _try._ "Why are you even up so early?"

"I heard that there were going to be pancakes, so I wanted to be first in line."

It’s a lie, she thinks, but she doesn’t know him well enough to call him out. "Well. Since you're so nice to me, let me know what your favourite toppings are and I'll be sure to add them."

"Chocolate banana will be perfect." 

"Coming up." She pours the batter onto the grill, begins laying out the chocolate and banana slices. Easy practised motions. She can do this. 

"Hey, Sugawara?"

"Hmm?"

"Tell me that Daichi's a good person."

Sugawara's smile is very gentle when she turns to face him. "He's the best man I know."

She takes in a long shuddering breath. "Alright. So I don't need to worry on that front."

“No.” He pats her on the back as her vision blurs again. "No, you don't." 

Aoyama Motoko thinks a lot about her life after that.

She quits her job, cites her studies as the reason, and manages to leave on good enough terms that she thinks she can be rehired at the place if she ever needs to. She drops by the girl's volleyball team practices more and plays practice rounds with the juniors. She volunteers to stay late to coach the juniors on their serves. She avoids the boy’s gym. She makes bentos for her classmates instead of Tetsurou. She studies with her friends and finds someone else to help her with math. They go to the movies, or for karaoke, or to cute cafes together. She takes the allowance her parents gives her and spends it on herself, rather than food to feed a perpetually hungry team of athletes, or shoving everything she can into a bank account.

She’s a high school student for once, and she finds that she likes it.

She thinks a lot about her previous routine, and wonders how much of it had been designed around _Tetsurou’s_ schedule, no matter how much she’d told herself that she was her own person. How she’d always valued his time and his attention over her own. 

Here, she thinks bitterly over and over, is someone who works hard and fast so that she is alright with being alone. Here is someone who makes herself useful, so no one will leave her behind.

She takes a while to process it. There are days where she heads to Kenma’s house and plays video games silently with him. Like everyone else, he doesn’t bring up the giant Kuroo-shaped hole in the room, and she is grateful. 

In the end, Yaku is the one to break the precarious silence when he catches her leaving the school before sundown. He’s still in his PE kit, has probably stopped when he’s supposed to be running laps around the school.

"Why didn't you just sign on as our official manager?” he asks bluntly. 

She drops her bag, but his reflexes are quicker than hers and he’s already bent to retrieve it. 

"I'm sorry my break up is making things awkward for everyone,” she says as she takes it from him. 

"Aoyama, no one is blaming you. We didn't like you just because you brought us food all the time.” He hesitates, scratching the back of his neck awkwardly. “You didn’t just put up with us for Kuroo, did you?”

Oh. No. No, that wasn’t what she wanted them to think. “ _No._ I’m just avoiding Kuroo for a while. That’s all. It’s nothing to do with the rest of you.”

“Thank goodness.” Yaku’s smile is genuine. “We’ve missed you, you know.” 

“Are you sure you aren’t just missing the free food?” She knows that her self-deprecation isn’t a healthy coping mechanism, but she is still trying to come to terms with attaching her self-worth from her acts of service towards others. She’s a woman in a patriarchal society, so sue her. 

“Definitely not.” 

Motoko tugs at her bag strap, trying to figure out the answer to Yaku’s question.

She’d been first asked to be the boy’s volleyball team manager when she quit her own team and started hanging around after the boy’s practice last winter while waiting for Kuroo to finish. It just made sense then to make herself useful in that time - whether it meant tossing balls, or running to the nearest convenience store to get the team a round of meat buns. The third years had retired by then, and she knew the second years well, and was starting to like the freshman boys, even if Yamamoto was an awkward child. It wasn’t a chore, but she wanted to make sure it stayed that way. She isn’t sure when she decided to, but she had wanted to lay down a line between herself and Kuroo. If they were voluntary acts of service, rather than her taking on the position, she could tell herself that she was still her own person. 

She knows that there is nothing wrong with that. It is a thankless job being a club manager, it didn’t even look all that good in one’s transcript, and she had long decided she’d rather get a paycheque for her efforts. There was also something strangely sexist about the position and the way boys would speak about it, which had always made her uncomfortable. As though a female club manager was a status symbol the boys could brag of with other schools, when one was really like a glorified den mother. 

There is nothing wrong with prioritising herself, she thinks, but she also wonders at how good a job she has been doing with it. She wonders how much of it was plain selfishness. 

And really, wasn’t that the crux of it? She wonders if it was just because she didn’t want the commitment of being a manager because she was selfish, she wanted to drop by when she could, and stop when she wanted.

One could care for others and sacrifice one's own desires - hasn't she seen women do that all her life and still look happy, taking other people's successes as their own? One could look after oneself instead of looking after others and call it self-care.

Both were equally valid. 

She still feels like a terrible person. 

She wonders which is worse - to be known as Kuroo’s girlfriend, or as the Nekoma manager. Or if there was even anything wrong with either. 

“Aoyama?” 

She blinks. “Sorry, I was thinking of something.” 

“I’ve got to get back to practice,” he says, and it feels like there’s something else he wants to add, but can’t get out.

“I'll come watch the next match. Promise.” 

He brightens at that. “We’ll definitely play better knowing you’re there.”

She leaves the school, feeling a little lighter. 

After their break up, Kuroo gives his ex-girlfriend space she very clearly needs. 

She disappears after breakfast the next morning. When school starts again, she doesn't seek him out during lunch with an extra bento. She's not waiting for him to finish practice to walk her home. The team definitely notices the hole that is Aoyama Motoko. They don't bring her up, for which he is grateful. 

He thinks he spots her around the estate when he does his early morning runs. He spots her in the other gymnasium with the girls' volleyball team, and then leaving school on time with a group of girls, chattering and laughing instead of looking as stressed as she would be before a shift.

She's happy, it seems. He's glad.

Even so, he has guilt gnawing at the edges of his happiness whenever he gets a text from Daichi. He can feel Yaku glare at him sometimes, and Akaashi seems even quieter than before in their chat group with Bokuto. There are times he gets messages from Kenma telling him to not come over, and knows that she's over. 

So Kuroo Tetsurou doesn't expect to come home after practice to find his ex-girlfriend in his room, flipping through one of his volleyball magazines. 

"Sorry," she says, flushing slightly at the sight of him. It is so strange that they've become so awkward with each other. "Your mom told me it was okay to wait here."

"It's not that I mind, it's just unexpected." He shuts the door behind him and puts down his bag. "Something happen?" 

She smiles - it's the sly one that looks almost like a smirk, which she uses before she proposes some harebrained idea that he wishes he'd thought of himself and he goes along.

"Blow off practice tomorrow," she says. "Let's take a trip to Sendai." And she’s waving three strips of paper with a flourish. 

He feels himself grin. "You didn't - " 

"I checked with Suga. They're going to be playing at ten, so if we take the six 'o clock train, we can make it to the gymnasium as the team arrives." 

He can't remember the last time he stretched his jaw like this. "Motoko, you're _crazy_ ," he says, meaning it as the highest compliment and knowing she gets it. 

"We're high schoolers, even if you keep pretending you're an old man. Kenma's coming too." 

He hugs her - he can't help it. She's stiff for a moment and then relaxes into the embrace, bringing her arms up around his neck. 

"I missed you," he breathes. "It's not fair for me to say this, but I really really missed you." 

"Yeah, I missed you too." Her hands come up to pat his back lightly, like he were a toddler in need of comfort. She seems to hesitate, then hugs him properly. "I'm sorry I stayed away. I didn’t know how to behave with you." 

“Honestly, I’m not sure I would have known either.” He lets go, and she's smiling and actually looking at him, not avoiding eye contact the way she has for the last two months in school. 

He casts around, tries to pick up the thread in the conversation she'd left. "So, you and Sugawara?" he asks, with all of Lev's delicacy. He's already wincing. 

She laughs long and loud, like there's a joke she's missing. "We're just friends! Really!" Her face still seems a little sad and it's instinct that tells him to reach for her hand and give it a squeeze, and she still looks a little sad but she allows it.

"I'm going to give this dating thing a pass for a while," she says. "College, you know?" 

"Yeah," he agrees, heart heavy because he knows her well enough when she is only telling half-truths to deflect attention from things she doesn't want to admit or examine. 

Then the shadow seems to pass and she looks up at him again, teasing. "I’ve heard that you haven’t said anything to Daichi either.” 

He groans, making a mental note to kill Sugawara the next time he sees him. “It’s not like there was a good time at camp. There was practice, and I was still trying to figure things out after our breakup, and - “

“I’m kidding, I’m kidding. But," she says, eyes glinting the same way they did the first time he asked her out and she realised it wasn't a joke. "Just think how romantic it would be if you showed up tomorrow after they beat Shiratorizawa to confess their undying love.” 

He snorts, though a part of him _has_ fantasised about it. Showing up at Sendai stadium to cheer the Karasuno team on the side. Running to Daichi after and bending down to kiss him on the lips in front of everyone. He sees the way she grins at him as though she knows exactly what he were imagining. 

The problem with childhood friends, he thinks, is that they know you far too well. 

“You mean _if_ they beat Shiratorizawa," he returns, a beat too late. 

“Are you doubting Karasuno's skills?” She waves her phone in front of him, no doubt with her finger on the record button, ready to use as blackmail material. 

He catches hold of her wrist, moving the phone out of his face. “No, I’m not.” 

"Well," she says, brightening, slipping her hand out from his grasp to clap them together. "Since I'm here, could you please help me with this math problem?" 

“You only love me for my math skills, don’t you?” The words fall from his mouth, and for some reason, don’t seem to carry any kind of weight or baggage with them. Easy and natural. 

“You bet.” 

They're awake at _five_ the next morning because they're all insane. Kenma yawns the entire way to the train station, and they have to shake him awake to get off, and then transfer to yet another train before the board the shinkansen. 

"Here," she says when they've finally slumped into their seats. Kenma grabs the single one by the window and falls asleep immediately, which leaves her and Tetsurou next to each other, elbows poking at each other because he's _tall_ and these seats were not built with people his size.

She should sleep. She should curl up in her seat and pretend to sleep even if her heart is going a mile a minute just so she can avoid looking at him because even though they were casual and last night, it's still odd that she's going to Sendai with her ex-boyfriend to cheer him on with his new crush. 

Most girls, she recalls distantly, stop talking to their exes after they break up.

She shakes aside the thought and pulls out the bentos she'd made the night before and bottles of tea from her bag. "Here. Breakfast." It's all his favourites, of course.

"Were you carrying this the whole time? You should have told me, I would have carried your bag." 

"Pfft. Kuroo Tetsurou, are you calling me weak?" 

"No, it's only my generous nature coming through." 

Then the question comes out of nowhere like a bolt to the chest. "Motoko, do you _like_ doing this?" 

"What?" she asks, fully understanding what he means - because this is a question she's had to reflect on, _constantly_ , in the last few months. 

"You're always doing things for the rest of us. I've been thinking that we all take you for granted." 

She wonders what would be the right answer. That she didn’t mind, so it was alright? 

But she does mind, she realises. Now that she realises how much time she has on her own, when she didn’t instinctively split her time with others. 

"I'll stop when I don't want to anymore,” she finally says, and he leaves it at that. She settles in her seat, and instead of leaning against the window she rests against his shoulder. Tetsurou smells of fresh laundry and fish and warm skin, and she breathes his scent as she falls asleep. 

They reach Sendai City Gymnasium just as the Karasuno bus pulls up, the now-familiar black attired boys slowly leaping off. 

Motoko glances at the Nekoma boys. Kenma looks as reserved as always, but is eagerly scanning the mass of boys - stupid tall boys - but Kuroo looks like he's going to be sick. 

"Maybe we should wait," he says, already taking a step back, body angling towards the gate. Motoko reaches to clutch his jacket, but even though Kuroo is a baby with the cold, she has no doubt he'd just zip himself out of it and take off in the other direction, if he really wanted. "We can meet them after the match. I'm sure they need to focus." 

"No." They didn't wake up at five in the morning for him to _run away._ Also, Kuroo Tetsuro may have shot up like a bean pole and learnt how to smirk devilishly along the way and now fancies himself as sauve as a result but is still a complete baby.

So she shoves him towards the boys and summons her best Bokuto impression. 

"Hey hey! Karasuno!" 

There's a pause as they all snap to attention. 

_Mistake_ , she thinks. The tension is almost palpable, and stupidly, she thinks about how she doesn't have food to offer up. Then - 

" _Kenma!"_ Their orange-haired player shouts, pushing through his teammates. And Kenma hasn't moved, but Motoko sees the small smile on his face that he gets when he is uncharacteristically pleased with something. 

Kuroo is scrambling to his feet, tips of his ears tinged red but she's willing to bet he has his trademark sly smirk on his face already. 

"Yo." 

"What a surprise!" Sugawara exclaims, just a little too loudly, winking at Motoko. 

"Yeah, gotta see that this disciple of mine blocks properly," Kuroo laughs, reaching out to thump the tall blonde on the back, who, for all his surliness, allows it. 

"We're really happy you're here." And there's the Karasuno captain - _Sawamura_ , she thinks distantly - standing firm and strong amongst his team. She sees the way his face is flushed a little pink, visible even through the nasty bruise on his cheek. 

"Obviously, Sawamura, my charms just add that much more light into your life. Now, what the hell did you do to your mug?" 

The snorting laugh from Sawamura is so undignified that he stops looking like a Serious Captain for a moment, and transforms into a normal high schooler. It makes Motoko think a little of herself - wonders if Sawamura has also had to grow up too fast, be responsible for too many things too young.

She doesn’t want to make think of them like this, she thinks. No point in wondering how they match up. Even she knows that there is only pain left down that road.

She takes in a deep breath and the scene in front of her. She has never before felt so much she didn't belong. 

_Well,_ she thinks. Job done. She can leave them all to it. 

"Aoyama-san!" And Yachi is right in front of her, hands raised into little fists, then seems to remember herself and backs from the over familiarity, cheeks already flushed red. "That is! It's good to see you! I'm so sorry! I - " 

She gives Yachi a quick hug and the girl dissolves into incoherent splutters. "Hey Yachi. It's good to see you too." And it _is,_ even though they hadn't interacted all that much during the camp. 

"It was your idea to come here, wasn't it?" Kiyoko is as elegant and beautiful as ever as she brushes her hair from her shoulders. 

"Of course. I love them both, but _initiative_ isn't either Kuroo's or Kenma's strong suit." 

"Volleyballs for brains," Kiyoko nods. "I know." 

"In Kenma's defence, it's also computer games." 

They both laugh, and Motoko's earlier doubt washes away. 

"Children! When you're done, we have a match to get to!" Their coach claps his hands together but he's smiling at the scene anyway. 

It was the right thing to do, Motoko thinks. Even if she has to look away from Kuroo ruffling Sawamura's hair. She thinks she catches more than one pitying glance her way - certainly from Yachi, and Sugawara seems to step in to block them from her sight. 

She has wondered before if it would have been easier if Kuroo had cheated, or if Sawamura was unkind, or a hundred other little possibilities that could at least give her someone or something to blame. Anger, she thinks, would be so much better than this aching sadness she has no right to feel.

It is selfish, she thinks, to feel sad. Especially when he is so happy with just Sawamura's attention. He is happy. If she loves him, truly loves him, it should be enough. 

Then their coach is yelling again, and Kenma and Kuroo are wishing the Karasuno team luck. She frantically adds her own well wishes. 

Left alone, Kuroo casually slips an arm around her shoulder, the familiar weight simultaneously alarming and reassuring. 

"Let's get ourselves some seats," he says. "It's going to be a good match." 

She would usually have something snarky or witty to come back with, but can only nod, and gently squirm from his grip, avoiding looking at his face so she won't see the hurt expression she knows will be there. Kenma is looking studiously away, his cheeks flushed, not wanting any part in this. She doesn't want it either. "It will," she says, then quickens her steps. "I just need to use the bathroom, go ahead without me!" 

Shiratorizawa is exactly the kind of opponent Motoko loathes facing on the court. 

Their offence is, of course, spectacular. As is what happens when you have an ace larger than anyone else in the court who seems to have the constitution of a tank. 

Their defence, on the other hand, is laughable. Beginner-level mistakes are made, serves go straight into the net, easy receives are fumbled. 

And yet, they're winning, not because they were skilled, but because they were just _that strong._

It's infuriating. Kuroo says as much out loud. 

"Mm." Kenma's eyes are darting around the court, taking in the different players. "Shiratorizawa put all their stats in strength and vitality, nothing left in dex and defence."

"How do you think Karasuno will do?" 

He hesitates, making the mental calculations. "Sawamura's and Nishinoya's defence is good, and they’ve learnt our strategy for dealing with Bokuto's spikes. But they'll still lose if they can't pick receive his spikes properly soon." 

"That red-haired middle blocker reads well as well," Motoko points out. 

"Nowhere as good as me, though," Kuroo pouts, and on instinct, she punches his arm. 

She's distracted as she watches the game, trying not to think of Kuroo's arm on her shoulder, or how easily she had still made physical contact with him. Patterns and habits they had fallen into as children and which she can't shake off.

"That's Oikawa Tooru from Aoba Josai, isn't it?" She thinks she recognises him from one of Kuroo's volleyball magazines - hair that probably last saw a comb as Kuroo's and an angelic sort of face and an easy smile she would bet he practices in front of the mirror. The glasses are new, but they don't hide how intently he is watching the game, though the pout he's wearing now looks like it belongs on a five-year-old.

Kenma and Kuroo cast a glance over to the back. 

"I've heard Shoyou talk about him," Kenma says. “He’s a brilliant setter, apparently. And Kageyama’s senior.” 

Kuroo has his nose wrinkled. "Ah. He's supposed to be a really good team captain. Obnoxious though, and a poor loser." _Sawamura told me_ goes unsaid. 

She nudges him. "You sure you're not just talking about yourself?"

"Fuck off, Aoyama," he laughs, shoving her away gently.

Easy. Familiar. It is only her heart that has changed, hers and his. 

"You said that you weren't going to come because it'd piss you off, no matter who won." 

The voice coming from the back is quiet - something she might not have picked up if she weren't so antsy, glancing away from the court and Kuroo every couple of seconds. She looks back to see a boy easily jump over a row of seats to land next to Oikawa. 

He's cute, she thinks in the detached, evaluative way she's always categorised good looking boys ever since Kuroo grew twelve centimetres one summer and almost doubled his weight in muscle that fall and completely stole her heart. 

"No matter which side wins, I'm going to be able to see the other team's faces when they lose." 

"You really are a piece of crap." 

She fidgets with her hair, makes up her mind, and turns to go up the stairs at the back. Kuroo turns briefly but then something must happen at the court that he turns back to it. 

"You both from the Aoba Josai team?" 

Iwaizumi Hajime is a simple man, who follows some simple rules in life. 

Smack Oikawa when he’s being obnoxious. Keep the juniors in line. Drag Oikawa from the court if he’s over-practising. Study. Practice. Keep his head down. When a girl looks in their direction, it’s always at Oikawa, not him. 

So of course when the girl from the group of Karasuno supporters walks over to them at the back of the stands, it’s Oikawa that she’s going to speak to, not him. 

“You both from the Aoba Josai team?” she says instead and Iwaizumi is so stunned at the idea of being addressed at all he can’t reply. 

And of course, Oikawa just takes it in his stride and preens. “Well, I’m supposed to be incognito today, but I could always take a picture with you if you like.”

Iwaizumi expects her to squeal, to whip out her phone, or pull out a bag of cookies or chocolates to hand over as a gift, while completely passing him over. This is the routine. Oikawa is the star and he's just a figure in the background.

He knows he’s unapproachable. He’s got a stern face that’s useful for keeping the peace, and he doesn’t mind being the bad guy when it comes to disciplining the team, especially when it involved Oikawa, but he has wondered more than once what it would be like to be like Oikawa. At least when it came to girls. 

And then this one defies the script again. “I was told that the setter was a terrible loser, but you’ve exceeded my expectations,” she says, placing a hand on her hip, tilting her head and curling her lips in a way that he can’t tear his eyes from. “Could you keep your salty commentary to yourself while the rest of us try to pay attention to the match?” 

He stuffs a hand to his mouth to hide his laugh and Oikawa gives a horrified “Iwa-chan!” 

“Sorry,” she says, not sounding sorry at all, then sticks a hand in Iwaizumi’s direction. “Aoyama Motoko. Want to get a closer look at the action?” 

He takes it and she hauls him up, both of them ignoring Oikawa’s wail “Traitor!” 

“Iwaizumi Hajime. This piece of trash here is Oikawa Tooru, but I suppose you must know that. Are you from Karasuno as well?” 

“Nah, we’re from Tokyo. Just here to cheer them.” 

“Tokyo?” He follows her lead as she pulls him to the front, and because he’s stared down far worse he doesn’t flinch when the tall spiky-haired guy glances at him. Almost. 

“Adopting strays already, Aoyama?” 

“Oh, shut up,” she says, jabbing him with an elbow. “Iwaizumi, this is Kenma, and the one with the stupid smirk is Kuroo.” Then she gives a shout of surprise and leans over the railing far enough that he’s worried she will fall over. “Oh shit, is the libero setting? Did they get that from Yaku?” 

“Truly, crows cannibalising everything they can,” Kuroo says, also leaning over to look. 

“You should have been more careful about inviting them to the training camp.” 

“Hey, I’m not complaining. Whatever gets them to Nationals.” 

“Was Karasuno training in Tokyo with you all?” That would explain how they had improved so rapidly, Iwaizumi thinks. “How were they then?” 

As if on cue, Aoyama and Kuroo laugh out loud together. “They lost just about every practice match there was there,” Aoyama explains.

“Their receives got better though.”

Aoyama snorts. “They had _better_ after the number of penalties they did.” 

Briefly, he wonders if the two are dating, then decides it's none of his business, just settles down to watch. 

It’s a nerve-racking match, so much that Oikawa gives up sitting by himself because of course he has too many opinions that he cant keep to himself, but Karasuno wins in the end. 

“Let’s _go,_ Iwa-chan,” Oikawa whines loudly as the players cross the court to shake hands. “I’d rather die than see the award ceremony.” 

Iwaizumi groans. “I apologise for my friend’s shitty personality." It’s bad enough when he has to put up with it in private, but another when he’s willing to show it so publicly. 

“It’s refreshing to see someone say so clearly what they think,” Aoyama laughs. For a moment he thinks about asking her for her number but she’s already turned to Kuroo and Kenma and is shoving them towards the exit. At the last moment, she turns and waves goodbye to him. 

_Well_ , Iwaizumi thinks. _That’s the end of that._

It’s when he heads out of the bathroom that he hears the sniff from the other corridor. 

He supposes this stadium must have been privy to many crying sessions through the years - he's definitely contributed to it last year. Still, he goes over, even though it’s none of his business, and because life sometimes _does_ behave like a shoujo manga, it’s the Tokyo girl from earlier, covering her face with her hands, but very obviously crying. 

"Hey," Iwaizumi says stupidly. "Are you alright?" 

A sniff, then a long intake of breath. "Yeah. Fine." 

He digs in his pocket for tissues - packed in case Oikawa cried again today - and awkwardly hands it over. 

He should go. He should just mind his own business because she's very clearly giving off _Please leave me alone_ vibes. 

"Do you want me to call your friends over?" 

" _No."_

"Alright, alright." 

"I'm not crying." 

"Uh huh." 

"I'm not upset either." 

"Okay." 

"Thanks." She dabs at her face with tissues, blows her nose, crumples it all into a ball and chucks it neatly at the nearest bin with enough force that the lid spins for a moment from the force of her throw. "How do I look?" 

_Stunning,_ he wants to say, because she is, even with the red-rimmed puffy eyes. “Fine,” he says instead because he’s not a creep.

“I don’t want to talk about it.” 

“Right.” 

“So don’t ask.” 

“I won’t.” 

She takes a long exhale again, then smiles as she looks at him. “Can I get your number, Iwaizumi-kun?” 

It’s snowing _._ And instead of staying indoors like a sensible person would, Aoyama Motoko has caught a train to the city, and is waiting around the station with her hands stuck in her pockets, glancing at her phone every few seconds.

She gets a message. _Am here_. 

She’s here because she _wants_ to be. That much she’s certain. 

It’s still difficult sometimes, trying to separate _want_ from obligation. She suspects she’s going to struggle with this for most of her life. 

She spots him coming out of the gentry, looking a little lost. Waves a hand and calls his name and he lightens up as he jogs towards her.

"Welcome to Tokyo, Iwa-kun.” 


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I thought I was done with this story. It seems that I am not. 
> 
> CW abandonment issues, breakdown, non-consensual outing of someone's sexuality

The text, when she receives it, is completely unexpected. 

_Did you get back to Tokyo safe?_

She’d pleaded exhaustion when they were on the train back, and took the solo seat this time, curling into herself and untying her hair so it covered her face so Kuroo couldn’t see her take peeks at his glowing face, gushing to Kenma about Sawamura. 

It took her a moment to remember who _Iwaizumi Hajime_ was. 

Right. The Aoba Josai boy at the stadium. She feels a little embarrassed now at the fact that he’d seen her bawling her eyes out. There hadn’t been any such embarrassment _then_ because she assumed she was never going to see him again.

She wonders why she had asked him for his number. She’d been touched at his kindness, of course. And it didn’t help that he was good looking, in a stern way that reminded her a little of Kuroo when he was in Serious Captain mode. She shakes her head and wonders when will she stop comparing boys to Kuroo. 

_Yes, I did. Thank you._

_Good._

She puts her phone on the desk, and crawls into bed, resuming her previous important activity on feeling extremely sorry for herself. 

Honestly, she dealt with Kuroo better when she avoided him in school. Even if it had been her idea to go to Sendai. 

Then her phone buzzes again. 

_I hope you're feeling better._

On impulse, she hits the call button. He picks up on the second ring.

“Hey,” he says.

“Hey,” she says back, a little awkward. And because she doesn’t know how else to break the tension, she continues with “Iwa-chan, you’re really sweet despite your face, aren’t you?”

She hears him cough on the other hand, and then a thump that sounds like a body falling against the floor. “Um. Are you okay?” 

“Please _do not_ call me that.” More thumping sounds, what she assumes is him scrambling. She can't help but giggle. “Iwaizumi is fine.”

“Iwaizumi-kun?” she tries. It’s a mouthful. She doesn’t usually bother with honorifics, but there’s something about his sternness that makes her want to throw it in. Soften whatever it is between them. Something like friendship, she thinks, only she's yet to make food for him and he's seen her cry and he's probably the first person she's thought of as handsome, after Kuroo. 

A cough on his end. “If you like."

"Iwa-kun?" 

A grunt on the other end, which she doesn't know to take as affirmation or annoyance. 

"Are you always this friendly with strange boys you meet, Aoyama-san?" He says her name carefully like he's testing it. 

"You've seen me in my darkest moment already, we're past that." She falls on her bed and curls to her side. "For all you know, I'm the strange one looking to get you to lower your guard and then kidnap you and sell your organs on the black market."

The laugh on his end is short, surprised. She focuses on the sound of it, and carefully avoids thinking on how different it is from Kuroo's. "I'll be careful not to follow you down any dark alleys." 

"Volleyball players may have shitty knees but I'm sure your insides are fine." She shifts, wondering what the hell she's doing. Iwaizumi is a nice, handsome boy who doesn't need to talk to strange crying girls who are still broken up about their ex-boyfriend who is also their best friend and now doesn't know what to do with their lives. 

"I've avoided the knee problems. So far." 

"Just wait ten years from now. We're all going to be hobbling around like old men." 

"Do you play too?" 

"Wing spiker, Inter High Semi-finalist last year, thank you very much for asking. I suppose the boys don't keep track of the girls teams." 

An awkward cough. "We do support the girls' team practices sometimes - " 

"It's okay Iwa-kun, I know you're lying." 

Another cough. 

"The matches clash most of the time - " 

"I know. I wouldn't be so involved with the boys team if I hadn't stopped playing this year. And for Kuroo and Kenma of course." 

There's a pause, then "Is Kuroo your boyfriend?" 

It's her turn to squawk and fall off the bed. 

" _No,_ " she says once she's righted herself. 

"Ah. Because you seemed... close." 

"We _are_ close. Close like I'm this close to shoving him in front of a train a lot of the time because he's an annoying, insufferable brat." She inhales and reluctantly adds, "Also we broke up over the summer."

A very long pause. She imagines him frowning, scrambling for something to say. "Sounds like me and Oikawa I guess."

"Including the dating part?" 

"Except that part."

"Bet the girls must have been devastated.”

“That we weren’t dating?” he asks, adorably confused. 

"Iwa-kun, surely you know what a fujoshi is." 

More thumping noises, this time accompanied by a loud yell _._

A long minute, where she guesses Iwaizumi is trying to right himself again. 

" _Do not go there,_ ” he finally spits into the phone. 

Her stomach twists at the sound with some kind of emotion she can’t identify. It’s a lot like adrenaline, she thinks. Or fear. 

So of course, she babbles. "You know, it has all the usual tropes! Childhood friends with a strong shared interest turned into romance. And volleyball can be _so_ homoerotic as well, what with all these hot-headed boys saying they'd pound their opponents to the ground - " _Oh god he's going to think I'm an absolute weirdo now please stop talking._

"Is that what happened with you and Kuroo?" 

Her turn to choke. "Maybe. Except that I'd actually follow up on threats to throw balls into his face." 

"Okay, _that_ sounds familiar." 

"There we go. Homoeroticism." 

"I _will_ put down this phone." 

He doesn’t though, even though he has no reason to stay in the line. 

"Hey, Iwa-kun, why did you give me your number? Do you have a weakness for crying girls or something?" 

He ignores her teasing, just says serious, "You asked for it, Aoyama-san." 

"You should be careful, you might actually give it to one of your crazy fangirls next time. I could have been a stalker." 

"That's more in Oikawa's department. Also - high schooler, organ dealer, stalker. Someone's busy." 

A lot freer than she was three months ago, but she ignores that. "Are you telling me you haven't had your share of fangirls yet?" 

"No?" 

"Miyagi girls must have poor taste." She curls her free hand on her blanket, her voice remaining light when she asks. "Iwa-kun, is it okay if I keep texting you?"

"Oh." 

"You can say no, of course! I might still turn out to be out for your organs." 

"Of course you can." 

"Oh," she says stupidly. 

"You sound surprised." 

"I am surprised. Niceness only goes so far." 

"Why did you ask me for my number, Aoyama-san?" 

She feels the question like a received spike. 

"A number of reasons." She hesitates, wondering how honest she could be. Because she wanted to apologise for crying? Because she was lonely? "Because you were nice, and I wanted to thank you for putting up with me while I was crying. Thank you by the way. And you made intelligent observations on the match without being overly mean to either team. And because I thought you were cute." 

"Oh." 

"You sound like you don't hear that often." 

"Well, I don't. Oikawa does, I guess." 

"As I said, Miyagi girls must have poor taste." She's flushing. Is she flirting? Is this actually flirting? The most she's done before was snark at Tetsurou until they ended up kissing. That didn’t count, it was more like an extension of their friendship. 

"I'll leave you to sleep now, Iwa-kun. Thanks for putting up with my nonsense." 

"I had fun, Aoyama-san. Talking to you at the match, and also just now." 

"You can stop with the honorifics, Iwa-chan. I'm hardly being respectful on my end, aren't I?" 

She laughs when he makes another choked spluttering and puts down her phone, heart pounding in her chest the same way before a big match. 

She's almost asleep when her phone lights up with a message. 

_I think you're cute too, Aoyama._

She ignores it, the next time she sends him a message. How is one supposed to respond to that anyway? 

_How’s school?_ she asks instead, and then fidgets in her seat the entire class, waiting for her phone to buzz with his reply. 

He does, just before lunch. _Feels weird to not have to not have my volleyball stuff with me._

 _100% get what you mean_ , she sends back when she walks to the school vending machine, out of sight from any of her classmates. She knows she's smiling and she doesn't want to hide it. 

And because she’s too busy looking at her phone, she somehow misses the fact that Kuroo is in her way and walks straight into his back. She squeaks, gets a whiff of warm skin and his deodorant, and drops her phone all at the same time. 

"Here." His hands close over hers as he reaches for her phone and she almost drops it again. 

"Sorry." His face is genuinely apologetic as he looks at her, and she wonders if there is anything else he is trying to apologise for. 

"We're playing in the Spring High Semis this weekend," he says, hesitant. She can’t remember the last time he looked so nervous - no she can, same as that summer night when she told him she wanted to break up. 

"I'll be there," she says immediately, not needing to hear the rest of the words from his mouth. His relief is like a flower opening up in the spring - tiny petals opening as the lines of his face slowly relax. 

She isn’t sure why he is so relieved. She’d promised Yaku, after all. And there was Kenma to think of, who might act like he didn't care but cared a lot, deep down. Also, they’re friends now. They’ve ridden the train to Tokyo so he can go confess to his crush, and he’s been walking around school with that stupid grin on his face so she knows _that_ went well. She supports him and is happy that he is happy. 

And now she has this strange not-quite-friendship with one Iwaizumi Hajime. Who apparently thinks she's cute and who she thinks she likes flirting with. 

It's fine. Things are fine. 

"See you," Kuroo says, leaves her with her hands clenched around her phone and a weight in a gut she doesn’t understand.

"Hey, Iwa-kun? What's your favourite food?" 

Motoko is alone at home again, making bento boxes for the Nekoma team. She’s confused when she hears him groan. 

“Don’t laugh.”

“I won’t, I promise.” 

"Agedashi tofu."

She can’t help but snort. Unexpected, yes, and she can see him being teased by boys about this. 

“You promised you wouldn’t.” 

“Sorry.” She bites her smile back, even though he can’t see it. "I’ll remember that." 

"Boring, I know,” he says, and she imagines him blushing. It’s adorable, really. 

"Hey, my cooking is never boring." 

"Do you cook?"

She has nikujaga simmering in a pot, saury slowly heating up in another pan. Rice in the cooker, a bowl of salt and furikake for her to shape onigiri. She thinks about the countless bentos she has made, the number of people she has fed over summer camps. Kneading dough and soaking apples in saltwater, making pie after pie until she got it _right._

She had enjoyed it, she thinks. It hadn’t been all bad, feeding someone who wasn’t herself. It made the whole cooking and cleaning up process far less depressing, as though someone else would benefit from her effort more than herself. Learning their likes and preferences and adjusting her recipes to be able to fit. Kenma liked extra sugar and mirin in his food. Kuroo liked his fish, but preferred saurey over mackerel. 

It had made her feel wanted. Needed. Like if she left there would be a space in the shape of her, and people would see it and mourn it. That there would be a place she could always go back to. 

“Yeah,” she says. The rice cooker beeps. “A little. Come to Tokyo and I’ll make it for you.” 

He laughs at that. “I’ll look forward to that.” 

The Nekoma boys lose to Fukurodani and she is torn between cheering and crying. Bokuto is exuberant of course, and Akaashi's lips are turned up in a rare smile. 

She can't bring herself to congratulate them. Instead, she makes a mental note to send them a message after but heads out of the stands to look for Kuroo. 

At least the Nekoma boys had one more chance at Nationals slot. The Nohebi team is annoying, though, and she definitely hears their captain shit-talking Kuroo and the Nekoma team in the hallway. 

"By the way, did you ever get over Mika-chan dumping you?" Kuroo teases. She groans, wondering if he even realised how easily he was setting himself up for the Nohebi captain's response. 

"You're one to talk, didn't Aoyama dump your ass over the summer?"

She supposes this is her cue to step in. 

"Daishou, was it?" she asks cheerily as she walks besides Kuroo. "Nice to see you again!" She turns to Kuroo and slings her bag off her shoulders for him. "Tetsurou, could you get my bag for me? Bentos in there are for the team's lunch." 

"We'd definitely do better with your food in us," Kuroo coos, tones sugar sweet in a way he'd never put on when they were actually dating. "See you later, Daishou."

They high-five straight after turning the corner and giggle like they're five-year-olds again.

"Did you see his _face?_ ”

“If only I'd taken a photo!" 

And that's it, they're childhood friends again, even though she had gone back to - well, she had acknowledged his presence when she saw him around in school for the rest of the week and they'd given each other awkward waves, but neither of them had gone up to approach each other. 

Their love language, she supposes, had been closer to snark and trash talk, to running around their neighbourhood together in the evenings after volleyball training, slipping medication packs and creams into each other's bags when they'd noticed the other had an injury. 

"You'd played well," she says and knows he knows she wouldn't say it unless she means it.

He grunts. "Wouldn't have gotten as far as we had without Kenma's strategy." 

"To let Bokuto get overly comfortable with his straight shots? Yeah, that was a good call. Shame Akaashi got him to shake off whatever weird mood he'd gotten into though." 

"Do you think putting Lev onto the team is a mistake?" Kuroo asks abruptly.

She blinks, startled at the intensity in his voice. "He's not going to get the experience he needs if he doesn't play in the big matches," she says, picking her words carefully, knowing this is an important conversation. 

"I keep worrying that he's still too immature. He's big, yeah but we could be using Inuoka instead." 

"He did miss some easy passes," she says, trying to keep voice neutral. "But is that what you're really concerned about?" 

He slaps a hand to his face. "Well, I'm really worried, yeah. Karasuno's earned their spot to nationals, and we are going to look so bad if we mess this up - " 

"Hey." 

She takes a quick glance around, then pulls him towards one of the locker rooms, empty while everyone is out at lunch. Peels his hand from his face. 

He's shaking. 

The captain stands as captain because they are trusted to show a good face and support their team, no matter their feelings. The captain is still a high schooler. The captain is still human. 

She'd been groomed by her seniors as captain, before. She wonders if they were disappointed when she stopped playing. If they had thought that she'd been a waste of time. She pushes those thoughts away, tries to focus on Kuroo. 

"Hey," she says gently again. "It’s not your fault the team lost." 

"Of course you would say that." 

"When have I ever lied to you?" 

He licks his chapped lips, unable to look at her. "This summer. When you told me you wanted to break up." 

She feels everything in her body shudder to a stop. "We are not going to go there now." 

"It's true though." 

"We'll talk about it. Later." She shakes him roughly. "Now you have your team to face, and a match to win. There's no way you're losing to Daishou after that display, and you'd have me cheering in the back. Come on. Captain face on." 

He closes his eyes and takes in a deep breath. Rearranges his face so that when he opens his eyes again, he looks completely impassive. 

He gives her a smirk. "How do I look?" 

"Punchable. So you know you're doing it correctly." Before she can stop herself, she tiptoes and kisses him on the cheek. "Nekoma _will_ win the next match."

He flushes slightly as he looks away, but looking at him, one wouldn't guess that he'd been on the verge of a breakdown just a few moments before. 

This, she thinks, is a side of Tetsurou only she is allowed to see. It is a privilege, she reminds herself, to be trusted with something so sacred. 

She can’t help but wonder when she'd be replaced by Daichi. 

Nekoma wins. She heads back home once the results are out, lets the team celebrate by themselves. 

The bento boxes are left by her door the next morning, stacked neatly inside of her bag and washed clean. She takes them in and shoves them deep inside a cupboard. 

For lunch, she makes agedashi tofu and serves it in one of the nicest plates in the house, a fancy stoneware dish that her parents had bought when in Kyoto. She arranges the bonito flakes and spring onions with chopsticks and angles it just right in the sun streaming through the window. The photo comes out perfect. 

She hesitates before sending it to Iwaizumi, then decides against it. 

By the time she settles down to eat it, the tofu is soggy. 

“Iwa-chan - "

“Don’t call me that,” Hajime snaps into his lunch, but without any of his usual bite.

He hadn’t actually minded it when it had come from Aoyama, he thinks. 

"Iwa-chan you've been so _strange_ lately."

"I don't know what you mean."

He knows _exactly_ what Oikawa means. They text throughout the day, but somehow or other one of them ends up calling the other later in the evening and they end up talking for an hour about absolutely nothing instead of going to bed. Her house is always quiet, silence only broken by the sizzle of cooking or the beep of a rice cooker. He knows she runs every day around her neighbourhood. He knows she had an ankle injury the year before and stopped playing volleyball after. He knows she's home alone most of the time, and even though she says she's fine he has a strong feeling that she isn't.

"Don't tell me you've got a girlfriend!" Oikawa whines. "You're on your phone _all the time_ but you don't reply my texts." 

"That's because I'm trying to ignore you while you blow up my phone, Trashykawa."

"But who on earth would put up with your terrible personality? And your face? Is this girl mentally challenged?" 

"Fuck off _."_

"Do you kiss her with that dirty mouth, Iwa-chan?" 

His kingdom for a volleyball to toss into Oikawa's face. "I said, fuck off Shittykawa!" 

"What's Oikawa done now?" Matsukawa asks with his mouth stuffed full. He plonks himself at the table with his bento, still chewing, looking on the proceedings with mild interest. 

"Being his usual shitty self." 

"You really need to reconsider your choice of best friends, Iwaizumi." Hanamaki pops up out of nowhere and seats himself next to Matsukawa. 

"At this point, it's more like a tumour I'm stuck with." Hajime shoves his phone into his pocket - there is no way he's going to attempt to text Aoyama with the whole gang around. 

"I was just saying that Iwa-chan might have found himself a girlfrieeeeend." Oikawa drags the word out like a five-year-old. The chaos that follows is as expected as it is still deeply annoying. 

" _Who?_ " Hanamaki snaps. 

" _How?_ " Matsukawa says at the same time. 

"That's exactly what I asked!" Oikawa says triumphantly. "With that face and personality?" 

Hajime can feel the onset of a migraine - the one that seems to come along whenever Oikawa is around. "I swear to god I'm going to stick my foot so far up your flat ass - " 

Oikawa squeals and jumps out of Hajime's grasp. Everyone in the cafeteria looks up for a moment, and Oikawa just basks in the attention, before the chatter starts back up again. 

"Okay," Matsukawa says, waving his chopsticks in the air. "More like - you have _this one_ stuck to you at all times. Who we all know flirts like breathing and for some reason, the girls all fall for it until they hang around long enough to see his shit personality. How did you get a girlfriend despite that?" 

"I never said that I had a girlfriend!" Hajime snaps. 

"No, Iwa-chan is just mooning over his phone all the time - " 

Yup, incoming migraine. He rubs his temples, wondering if it would end by the end of lunch break. He has to _study_ for fuck's sake, it seems like he's the only third-year who cares about things like college exams. 

Matsukawa and Hanamaki give him identical sympathetic glances. "Has she met Oikawa yet at least?" 

"No, or he's going to have to be prepared for heartbreak - " Oikawa says, sing-song. 

"Not every girl worships the ground you walk on, dumbass." 

"Only the ones with good taste, evidently." 

Hajime wonders if it would be too much to pretend to barf into his food. 

"You've met her," he finally says. "At the Shiratorizawa and Karasuno match. She called you salty. And a terrible loser." 

Hanamaki almost falls out of his seat cackling. 

"Good to know that not everyone falls over Oikawa," Matsukawa snipes, and claps Iwaizumk on the back. "There might be hope for the rest of us after all."

" _That_ girl? The rude one who just barged into our private conversation - " 

"No shred of irony at all, coming from you." 

"Couldn't you at least like someone cute?” 

“Ha?” He gives Oikawa his best possible glare and takes some satisfaction at seeing him flinch. He'd take Oikawa's whining, but he's not going to stand for any digs against Aoyama. How could anyone _not_ think she was cute? 

"Have you gone out yet?” Hanamaki asks, because he’s a nice supportive friend and that was what nice supportive friends do. 

"No.” Hajime’s stomach tightens at the thought of going out on a date with Aoyama. "She lives in Tokyo." 

Hanamaki whistles, long and low while Matsukawa pats Hajime on the back. "Tough luck." 

"Maybe she'd have forgotten about you the next time you see her,” Oikawa says, singsong. 

"Fuck _off_ , Shittykawa.”

He knows better than to take Oikawa’s pettiness seriously, but his stomach seems to have clenched itself and has forgotten how to stop. 

"Hey Iwa-kun? What do you think you'd be doing if you hadn't done volleyball?”

Their calls have become routine now. She hears rustling and thinks he is shifting under the blankets as he thinks of his answer.

"Student council, probably."

"Mm. I can see that. You’re like the serious, responsible type.”

He snorts. "And you’re not?”

“I’m _trying_ to move away from that. It’s hard.”

Mercifully, he leaves it at that. "What about you?"

"Mm. Soccer maybe. Anything that had long practices.” _Anything so I wouldn’t go back to an empty house_ , she thinks, and shoves the thought away. "I tried out archery a couple of times but got bored really quickly.”

“You need to run a lot, do you?" 

"I need to feel like I'm _doing_ something." She lays on her back and huffs. "It's weird, isn't it? Just studying for college now." 

"Yeah. It is. We still join the juniors' practice sometimes. Keep them on their toes, we say, but I can't just sit around all day." 

"Which colleges are you looking at?" she asks, non sequitur. 

"Guess." 

"Alright, I'll be honest, I don't know anything about the colleges in Miyagi." 

"I figured. My top choices are in Tokyo." 

"Oh." She curls into herself, trying to tell herself that this is nothing. Lots of people go to Tokyo for university. 

"Keio. Sports science,” she guesses. 

"Arts at Waseda." 

"You're kidding me." 

"Why? I'll have you know my classical Japanese grades are excellent."

"That's my top choice." Calm down, she tells herself. "You've been to the campus yet?" 

"No." 

"It's really beautiful in the autumn." 

"Maybe I'll pay a visit during the New Year break." 

"Oh." 

"And - " He takes a long pause, and she imagines him frowning, thick brows knitting themselves together, the same expression he had as he studied the Shiratorizawa team. "I could pay you a visit?" 

She clutches her phone tight enough that she can't feel her fingers. "I'd like that." 

She hears the rush of breath on his end, and when he speaks, the words rush out. "Great, I'll just check with my parents, and take a train, see if I've got a place to crash - " 

"I'm out in the suburbs but you could stay at my place if you liked." She clears her suddenly dry throat. She shifts her weight, restless, wanting to put a word to the flipflopping of her stomach, the sudden heart pounding. Reckless really. What was she doing? "My parents usually aren't home for the New Year's so it would be nice to have company." It sounds like a good enough excuse, except she usually alternates her New Year celebrations with Kenma's and Kuroo's families. 

Last year, she and Kuroo had dressed in kimono and gone to visit a shrine themselves. He'd pretended to be a samurai attempting to seduce his lord's daughter the entire time, reciting poems they'd learnt in classical Japanese, then kissed her after he bought her sweet potatoes. It had been a nice day. It had been a nice kiss. 

Funny how she couldn’t quite remember how Kuroo's lips felt anymore, even though she'd replayed that moment for weeks after. She wonders if it means she's finally moving on. 

“Oh.” Iwaizumi stutters on the line. "I mean - if you didn't mind - " 

"I wouldn't offer it up if I did, Iwa-kun." 

"Right." She hears him clear his throat on his end. "I'll let you know the dates when I can confirm them."

“Okay.” Breathe, she reminds herself, suddenly feeling lightheaded. "Goodnight, Iwa-kun.”

“‘night Aoyama. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”

Something in her chest clenches at that promise. 

"Tokyo," Oikawa says flatly. 

Hajime rubs his temples, wondering how he’d gotten into this situation. "Yes.”

“Over New Year.” 

“ _Yes._ ” 

“We’re supposed to watch movies over the New Year break. It’s _tradition._ ” 

Yes, that had been where it’d started. Oikawa had asked making a list of movies that they were going to binge together on the second day of New Year’s, and he’d said that he couldn’t make it this year. Then he came home to find an upset Oikawa in his room. 

“We can do that after Christmas, Shittykawa.” 

“And _this!_ ” Oikawa slams his hand down on the college application forms on the table. The ones Hajime had left in his room, like a normal person would, only most normal people didn’t have best friends and neighbours who would happily snoop around his things when they weren’t at home. " _Arts._ " 

"Is that a problem, Trashykawa?" 

"You were going to study science with me!” 

“That was three years back!” 

“Did you just change your mind so you can impress this girl?" 

Oikawa is being ridiculous and they both know it. The application forms were done months ago, at the start of their third year. Hajime has talked about college out loud multiple times but Oikawa has always changed the subject, preferring to talk about the next volleyball match instead. "I'm allowed to change what I want to do without consulting you!" 

"No, you’re _not!_ " 

Hajime takes a deep breath, ready to punch Oikawa in the head, if only it’d actually fucking _knock some sense_ into the moron, then realises Oikawa’s chest is heaving hard, like he’d just practised a hundred serves.

"Are you jealous?" 

Oikawa sniffs and turns away, refusing to meet his eyes. "No. Why would I be?" 

Oh. Holy shit.

"Come here," Hajime says gruffly. It takes a moment but Oikawa does, still sniffing and curls his fingers into Hajime's shirt. He's getting snot all over, but Hajime doesn't say anything, just strokes Oikawa's hair. 

For all his bravado, Oikawa has always been a cry baby.

Long minutes pass, and eventually Oikawa tells him what the temper tantrum is really about. "You're going to go to Tokyo, and you're going to meet this girl and you're going to forget all about me." 

"I couldn't forget you if I tried, you piece of crap." 

"What do you even _like_ about her?” Oikawa asks, voice thick. 

For all the spite loaded behind the question, Hajime knows Oikawa is serious.

“She’s funny and kind. It’s easy to talk to her. She used to play volleyball, until she got injured.” 

Oikawa makes a great show of sniffing, as though making a scene of his disapproval will change Hajime’s mind. 

"There’s something sad about her as well. She hides it well.”

Oikawa huffs against his shirt, but he can feel the disapproval radiating off him. 

“I think you’d like her if you gave her a chance, Oikawa.”

“Never.”

“Why are you being such a dick about Aoyama?” Hajime asks, stroking Oikawa’s hair to calm him down the way he’d learnt years ago. It had worked after their very first loss against Shiratorizawa, back in middle school. It works now. 

There’s a very long moment as Oikawa eventually stops sniffing, each word sounding like they’re being pulled out of his mouth with pliers. 

"I don’t want to share you.” 

That, Hajime knows, is as honest as Oikawa is going to get. And because Hajime has known Oikawa, and doesn’t always know how his brain works, he thinks he still knows the right thing to say. “Even if I don’t end up dating Aoyama, we might not be in the same schools anymore,” he says gently. “We won’t be seeing each other all the time anymore. You'll make new friends. I might date other people.” 

“With your face? Good luck.” 

He ignores the barb, because that is just how Oikawa hides when he is scared, just rubs Oikawa’s back in gentle circles.

“Why can’t we just stay like this forever?” Oikawa demands, raising his head from Iwaizumi’s shirt. 

Oikawa isn’t just throwing a tantrum, Hajime realises. He’s _terrified._

“Because we have to grow up,” Hajime says, far more steadily than he feels. 

“ _Why?"_ Oikawa wails. _"_ How are you so _calm_ about this?"

“I’m scared too,” Hajime admits. “I don’t know if I’ll go to the colleges I want to, and I’m scared at the thought of living by myself in a dorm, or an apartment. If I can’t keep up with classes.” 

Oikawa snorts, but he at least doesn’t add anything snarky about his thoughts on Hajime's intelligence. 

“But we’ll make things work, alright? Shit, growing up doesn't mean we have to grow _apart._ We can still watch alien movies on our laptops together even if we’re in a different city. We can still call each other and I’ll threaten to strangle you the next time I see you after you say something awful.”

“You don't reply my messages,” Oikawa accuses.

“Only if your messages don’t have a _point_ to them, Shittykawa,” he says, because it’s now safe to tease him. It works, and he feels Oikawa’s muscles slowly relax under his hand. 

“Hey, Iwa-chan?”

He doesn’t tell Oikawa off for using the nickname, because he’s a good friend. “Yes?” 

“I was thinking… I might not end up going to college." He feels Oikawa swallow against his chest. "I want to be a professional volleyball player.” 

He stops rubbing Oikawa's back, tightens his hold on him instead to give him a hug. “You’d be amazing at it.” 

"Welcome to Tokyo, Iwa-kun.” The nickname slips out, practised and easy. The sternness of his expression seems to lift slightly, and Motoko wonders if he's feeling as nervous as she is. 

"Sorry to keep you waiting." 

"It's fine, I only just got here." She can feel herself relaxing at the familiar sound of his voice, even if they haven't seen each other in months. "Shall we?" 

Iwaizumi nods, still a little stiff. 

He’s got a duffel bag slung across his shoulders, is wearing the same hoodie and jacket she'd last seen him in.

“Please tell me you have a coat. I feel cold just looking at you,” she teases. He digs his hands into his pockets and the line of his mouth tightens. She wonders if all teenaged boys are like this, stubborn and defensive on small things that make her wonder if they were really incapable of taking care of themselves. 

“Tokyo’s warmer than Sendai.” 

“You’ve noticed that it’s snowing, right?” 

"Well. At least it'd be pretty." 

"Dumbass." She digs into her pockets for the heatpacks she always carries around in the winter. "Here. For when you inevitably freeze but are too manly to admit it. I'll pretend not to notice when you use them, if it makes you feel better." 

His cheeks tint pink and his scowl deepens slightly, but he takes the packs anyway. It's cute, she thinks. And it’s not like he’s actually angry. She thinks about teasing him about getting frown lines, but stops herself, thinking that might be a little too much. 

There's a taiyaki store near one of the university's side entrances that she takes him to. She gets the sesame for herself, and smiles to know that chocolate is his favourite.

"What?" he asks as she hands the hot pastry over. 

"You're still like a kid, even though you like to act like a grumpy man, aren't you, Iwa-kun?" 

"Hey." His protest is half-hearted, almost like he knows he's already lost that one. "I'm not grumpy." 

"No, just incredibly serious about everything." She takes a bite of the taiyaki and almost spits it out. 

"Too hot?" Iwaizumi asks, amused. "Careful." 

She sucks in the cold winter air and manages to swallow the pastry. " 'm fine," she says, managing to work her burnt tongue. 

"Sure you are." He slings his bag to his front and rummages in it with his free hand, finally extracting a water bottle. "Drink." 

She takes the bottle, even though she has a flask of hot tea in her own bag. It's strange, she thinks. Being taken care of.

She blinks as something lands on her eyelash, and then looks up. The snow is falling a little thicker now, collecting on the streets instead of melting immediately. “Ah.” She hands the water bottle back to Iwaizumi and pulls out an umbrella, then feels it being pulled gently out of her hands.

“I’m taller, I’ll hold it,” he says. 

“Must you make fun of my height?” she asks, mock teasing. 

“I’m not!” 

“Kidding.” She stretches her arms out, tiptoeing in an exaggerated fashion to place them over the top of his head. “Oh to be as tall as the male volleyball players. Mother Nature is unfair, truly.”

Iwaizumi makes a kind of grumbling sound but there’s a small smile on his lips that makes her think he’s enjoying her teasing. 

The avenue of ginkgo trees are like they're lit up in flames in the autumn, she says pointing them out as the tree branches are steadily fill up with snow. And during the school term, there’d usually be all sorts of student groups, organising fundraisers, or holding rallies. She realises after a moment that she's got a hand wrapped around his - very nice, she categorises distinctly - arm. It's because they're sharing an umbrella, she thinks. It's normal. She sneaks tiny glances at his face and decides he doesn't seem to mind. 

“Do you come here a lot?” 

“Sometimes. A lot more in the last few months, whenever I thought I was going to go crazy over my studies. I’d walk around here, and just tell myself that I'd be here in a few months. So it'd be worth it." She's babbling, she realises.

Waseda is beautiful, Iwaizumi admits after a while.

“All geared up to do nothing but study for the next month?” she asks. 

He groans. “Maybe not quite at that level yet.” 

"There's an okonomiyaki place that does a half-off for lunch nearby," she says, fidgeting with her hair once they’re done with their tour of the campus. "And the Tokyo Skytree's half an hour away if you'd like to - " 

"Yes," Iwaizumi says, reaching a hand to cover hers, the one resting on his arm. "To both." 

It takes her a moment to remember how to speak, every cell in her body conscious of the weight of his hand on her arm. "We're going to get gross and smoky if we eat there though," she warns. 

"I'm fine with it if you are."

"Have you had monja before?" 

This, Motoko thinks, is what a proper date should be. Not bent over a pile of books and soon-to-be-due-homework, or extra volleyball practice, or runs around the neighbourhood. Iwaizumi burns his first attempt at monjayaki, and she expertly makes the second batch. As they leave the restaurant for the train station, Iwaizumi tucks her hand around his arm again. He’s flushed again, and the colour on his cheeks only deepens when she leans in close. She decides to have mercy on him and not mention it. 

The weak winter sun is already dimming by the time they get to the Tokyo Skytree, the lights of the city already flickering on. She can tell that’s he’s trying to play it cool, but he still lets out a gasp when he’s on the observation deck, clambering to the side to lean over like a child.

She laughs. She can’t help it, but he doesn’t seem to take it badly, just laughs along with her. 

“I forget sometimes,” she says, leaning over the side. “How amazing Tokyo can be.” 

“City girl like you, of course you forget.” 

“Sendai is a city too.”

“Not like this.” He takes a deep inhalation of the crisp winter air, looking resolutely down at the lights while his hand reaches to twine around hers. She stops breathing for a moment, then tightens her grip around his. 

"My train's in the evening tomorrow," he says. They’re headed to her place and she plans the menu as she has since he'd told her he was coming down. Miso soup, stir-fried vegetables, fish - no, she corrects, he prefers meat. And agedashi tofu, of course. 

"Is there anything you'd like to do before you go? Studying is not allowed." 

He laughs at that, short sharp barks. It fits him, she thinks. “I didn’t bring my books anyway,” he says. “Also. That," he says, managing to take her hand and tug her to stop, and then point to the enormous climbing wall inside of the shopping mall. 

She swallows as she looks up at it. "There's actually a climbing gym closer to my place. We could stop by and book a slot on our way back." 

"Have you ever been?"

"No." 

"Great, so we can both suck at it together."

She pokes a bicep and flushes. It's nothing like teasing Kuroo, she thinks, an undercurrent of tension and unfamiliarity that she just can’t seem to get used to. "I think you'd have a big advantage over me though." 

He splutters, and it's really cute, she thinks, that it's so easy to induce this reaction from this stoic boy. “We’ll see,” he eventually manages. 

The Tokyo suburbs are much like the ones in Seijoh, Hajime thinks. Aoyama points out the stop where her school is at, chatters about the shops in the area she would stop by at after practice. Her house is much like the other ones in the neighbourhood, with a yard in the front, now covered in a layer of snow. 

It strikes him as odd, the way she doesn't announce that she's back, a habit he hasn't managed to break even when he knows his parents are out for the night. Aoyama flicks the lights on and hands him a pair of house slippers with a smile, tells him he can leave his bag anywhere he likes, points out the bathroom, and then bounds into the kitchen. 

Hajime is a little frightened at the order of the spice cabinets, the Spartan cleanliness of the house. He thinks of his home, how there are perpetual crumbs on the dining table, the lived-in clutter that seems to accumulate no matter how often he tries to keep things neat. Aoyama opens the fridge and starts taking out ingredients with startling efficiency. He thinks about all their late-night calls, the quiet sounds of the rice cooker beeping in the background and the clatter of kitchen instruments in the background. He'd known that she was alone at home a lot, but he thinks he has never quite understood what that meant. Not until now. 

"Are you alright, Iwa-kun?"

"Yeah," he says, tongue thick in his mouth. 

"Do you want water? Or tea? I have juice and soda in the fridge as well." 

"Tea is fine," he says. 

She hums as she puts the electric kettle on, reaches up another shelf. He glimpses neat jars of tea, and then she has a Tupperware of neat tea packets in her hands. She selects one and lays it out into a tea pot.

"Can I help?" he asks, and her eyes widen in surprise. 

"Do you even know how to cook, Iwa-kun?" Aoyama teases. 

"Not as well as you, I suspect, but I can at least do the rice and soup." 

"You're my guest! Just sit down, and I'd have everything done soon." Her cheeks flush a little as she adds "You can just keep me company while I cook." 

He recognises the stubborn set of her shoulders that she won't let him help. It's fine, he thinks, sitting himself down. This is a battle he can lose. 

"Did I tell you about the time I had to throw a ball to the back of Oikawa's head because he wandered off to take photographs with girls minutes before a match?" 

She laughs and sets a steaming cup of tea in front of him. Hojicha, and brewed at the perfect temperature. He thinks he might have mentioned it offhand two months back as his favourite tea. Somehow, he isn't surprised that she remembers this tiny detail. 

"I really want to meet Oikawa again. I don't think I gave him the best impression before." 

"He may not like you now, but I think he will. Or maybe I just have to throw another ball at his head so he’ll stop acting like a stubborn little shit."

"I'm surprised he still has brain cells to rub together, after all the violence you've inflicted on him." 

"Oh, he can still have the brains to be an absolute pain in the ass, I can assure you." 

They talk about their volleyball teams until she begins serving the dishes together in a flourish, at the exact same time the rice cooker finishes cooking. Somehow, he isn't surprised to see that she's made agedashi tofu. 

"It's delicious," he pronounces, and it's because he's spent years watching Oikawa and keeping track of all his mercurial moods, that he sees the way her shoulders relax ever so slightly at his praise. 

"Of course," she says as she stirs her miso soup. "I'm a great cook." 

"It's not the only thing you're great at." 

He'd meant it as a matter-of-fact statement, as true as "your hair is black" or "I like your smile" but she drops her gaze for a moment and blinks. 

"Aoyama?" 

"It's nothing," she says, lying. He wonders how he will broach this with her, and when. 

Then the doorbell rings. 

He glances at the main door. "Were you expecting anyone?" 

"No," she says slowly, getting up and walking to the main door. 

He hears her unlock the door. "Oh," she says. 

"Hey." The person at the door is male, has a deep, vaguely familiar voice. “Grandma wanted me to drop this off." 

"Oh. Tell her thanks, I'll drop by tomorrow evening with fruits or something." 

"Can I come in?" 

"No." 

"Motoko, please. I've been worried about you the last few months." 

"You don't have anything to worry about, Kuroo." 

"Then why have you been avoiding me in school?" There's a pause, and Hajime thinks he might have to go to the door and shut it in Kuroo's face, but then Kuroo speaks again, voice deeper, angrier. 

"Do you have someone over?" 

"It's none of your business,” Aoyama snaps.

"Is it a boy?" 

"Fuck off - " 

He’s on his feet the moment the door slams open. There’s thudding against the floor, and then Kuroo Tetsurou - Aoyama’s former best friend, boyfriend, and still-neighbour - emerges in the kitchen, scowling. 

“You,” he says, jabbing a finger at Hajime’s direction. “Why do you look familiar?" 

Aoyama smacks the back of Kuroo’s head and for a moment, Hajime wonders if that’s how she practices volleyball because she has to reach a long way up to get there.

“I said, fuck _off_ asshole.”

“You’re that boy from Aoba Josai,” Kuroo says, straightening, rolling his shoulders back to glare at Hajime intimidatingly. Then he spins around to face Aoyama. “Do your parents know that you have a boy at your place while they aren’t at home?”

Aoyama’s face is scarlet. “I’ve had _you_ over plenty of times when they weren’t around, and I didn’t hear you complain then.” 

“That’s because I knew _my_ intentions were completely honourable. You don’t know anything about this boy!” 

“Well, _of course_ your intentions were honourable. You weren’t interested in me, or any other girl, were you?” 

Aoyama clasps her hand over her mouth the second the words are out, as though she could take them back. The silence in the kitchen is almost heavy enough to clutch. 

“We’ll talk about that _later_ ,” Kuroo says tightly. He turns back to Hajiime. “I don’t know who you are really, but there are hostels you could go to instead - “

“Are you really going to do this?” 

“This isn’t appropriate, Motoko.” 

“You’re not my father, or my boyfriend anymore Tetsurou, you don’t get to decide _appropriate_ \- "

Hajime catches Kuroo’s arm just as it snaps out to grab at Aoyama’s. 

“I think you should leave,” he says steadily. 

Kuroo’s glare might make someone else flinch. Not Hajime though. He’s far too used to glaring contests across the court with taller men. He hasn’t backed down before and he isn’t about to start now. 

“I’ll only leave if Aoyama wants me to,” Hajime says. “And I think she’s made it abundantly clear she wants _you_ to get out.” 

For a moment, he thinks Kuroo is about to punch him. _Let him_ , Hajimethinks fiercely. Kuroo might be taller but he’s sure he’s stronger. 

Then Aoyama’s fingers are wrapped around Kuroo’s wrist. “Talk,” she says. “Now.” She nods at Hajime. “Excuse us.” Her hand, so much thinner and smaller than Kuroo’s, yanks the boy out and Hajime is left in the kitchen by himself. 

“You have some fucking nerve,” Motoko snaps the second she slams the door to her room closed. Her vision is already blurry, tears threatening to spill over. She grits her teeth. She won't cry. She won't. “Showing up at my place like this. Were you spying?” 

“I told you, my grandma sent me - " 

“ _Today_ , of all days, you choose to check in on me?" 

“I’m still your friend, Motoko, no matter what you think. I still care about you!" 

She screams at the lie, a wordless sound of frustration. "How can we be friends, if I or my feelings were never a priority to you?" 

"Motoko." A warm thumb against her cheek, wiping away tears she hadn't realised she was shedding. 

"Where were you?" she hears herself ask. "Last week? Last month? Why turn up _now_ when I needed you before?" 

He wraps his stupidly long arms around her and pulls her to his chest and she is too tired to fight him off. When he finally speaks, she hears the words as much as she feels them, rumbling against her body.

"I thought you were fine. I thought you wanted space." 

"You would have known, if you'd bothered to check." The words spilling out are awful black things, things she has thought about when she can't sleep at night and promised herself that she would never ever hurl at him. She can't stop now that she's started. "You just wanted me to be fine, wanted me to be happy so you wouldn't have to feel guilty that you're happy with someone else." 

He doesn't say anything, only strokes her hair as though they were still dating and in love and somehow that makes her even angrier. "You're not even going to deny it. You _knew_ I was lying about wanting to break up with you, and yet you let me!" 

"Motoko." She shivers hearing her name in his voice, deep and serious. "What did you want, back then?" 

Somehow, she realises distantly, she's ended up on the floor, Kuroo cradling her in his lap while she clings to him. 

"I wanted _you,_ you dumbass. God knows why." She's shaking now, choking on all the awful things that she doesn't want to look at closely. "I wanted you to tell me that you wanted to stay with me. That you would love me all your life." 

He hasn't stopped stroking her hair. "I wish you were this honest all the time," he says, and he doesn't have the right to sound this sad. 

"What good would it have done if I'd said this during the summer? Would you have stayed?" 

"I never left you," he says, like a liar. 

"Lies." 

"It's the truth. I've been here, I was always ready to talk to you if you wanted. You're still one of my closest and oldest friends." She hates how calm and reasonable he sounds, while she can't stop shaking. 

"Then why wasn't I _enough?"_ Her voice breaks at the word. 

"Motoko, that's not how it works." His hands tighten around her and she instinctively clutches at him as though he were a lifeline. "I still love you, just not the same way. I still want to be here for you when you need to cry." 

She wails, long and wordless, a sound that goes on and on and on, and Tetsurou holds her the entire time. She is so _tired_. 

"I love you still," she finally says. "It's all muddled up with how much I still want to care and support you, and I'm angry and sad even though you didn't do anything wrong and it wasn't your fault. I _know_ it wasn't. But I can't stop being upset. _Why did you leave?_ " 

“Motoko you moron. I’ve _never_ left you," he says firmly. He tugs her hands to let go off his back and shifts her so that she has to look him in the eye. "Do you hear me? I've never left you. If you knocked on my window at three in the morning saying you needed me, I would be there." 

She believes him, she thinks. It doesn't make the loss of what they had any less painful. 

"What am I going to do without you, Tetsu?" she asks, her voice very soft. "You made this house into a home for me." 

"You're strong," he says. "You'll always find a way to make something your own. And I'm _still here._ I still love you, just not in the way I thought I did before." 

"I'm sick and tired of being _strong._ It's just an excuse so I have to be alone." 

"Motoko." Thumb on her cheek, a tiny small sad smile on Tetsurou's face. "I think you're going to have to tell your parents that." 

His words are like a spike to her gut.

"Fuck," she breathes. 

There's a knock on her door. "Aoyama?" Iwaizumi calls hesitantly. 

"Give us a minute!" Tetsuro yells, then mutters, "I really don't like that he's here." 

"It's just one night," she snaps. Anger drives away some of the bone tiredness from crying, at least. 

"A lot can happen in one night. Please tell me you have condoms, at least." 

"Firstly, Kuroo, what the fuck. Secondly, and I can't even believe I'm telling you this because it's _none of your fucking business,_ we haven't even kissed yet." 

He mutters something she doesn't catch under his breath. "If I leave you some will you at least take them?" 

She feels her jaw drop, and cannot bring herself to stop gaping. "Kuroo Tetsurou! Why do you have - " His sudden flush and sideways glance answers everything. "You fucking hypocrite!" 

"As it turns out," he mumbles. "I really am gay." 

She remembers then the moment in the kitchen when she had outed him. "I'm still mad at you for how you've behaved," she says stiffly. "But that wasn't right, what I said about you and in front of Iwaizumi. I'm sorry." 

"I know you didn't mean it." He sucks in a breath. "Do you like this Iwaizumi?" 

She doesn't need to think twice about that. " _Yes._ " 

"Okay." He pinches his nose and closes his eyes as he breathes in deeply. "I'll try to get along with him." 

"Are you going to tell my parents?" 

"Hell, no." He is very gentle when he adds, "I still think you should call them." 

"I'll think about it," she says. And that is as good as it will get and he knows it. He reaches for the tissues on her desk with his stupidly long arms and dabs at her cheek. 

"When did you realise you had feelings for Sawamura?" She's torn, wanting to know and also not know, how long it had been happening under her nose. 

He sighs, but answers anyway. "I didn’t know what it was, for a long time. Just that I liked watching him." 

"Did you cheat on me?” 

"Not _physically,_ no. But it was wrong I think. Knowing I had feelings and spending so much time with him anyway. I thought then that they would just go away over time, so I didn't think - " He sucks in a breath. "I didn't consider your feelings then. It was shitty of me." 

She is silent then. "I want to say I forgive you," she finally says. "But I'm not sure I do, because I'm still angry. Does that make sense?" 

He presses a kiss to her forehead, like they have done for years. It still feels natural, easy, and she thinks of the time she kissed him on the cheek at the stadium after he lost to Fukurodani. This is just how they are _._

They'd held hands as eight-year-olds and huddled under blankets together during sleepovers and pressed quick childish kisses to cheeks, forehead, bruises and scrapes from volleyball practice, long before they had gotten together. And when’d finally gotten together in high school, no one had been surprised. It’d just been a natural continuation of what they’d always done. 

He's had sex, she thinks distantly, looking at his hands. With a boy. 

They had never really progressed beyond hand-holding and light kisses, had never quite had the time or desire to. Sex had been a vague nebulous thing that she had shelved aside for the future. She'd always thought that it might happen when they went to university and she moved out. She wonders now if it had been her or him holding back.

"Feeling better?" Tetsurou asks. 

She blows her nose one more time and sniffles. "Yeah. Urgh, I feel bad for Iwaizumi. Feels like I'm always crying when he meets me." 

She regrets the words as they come out of her mouth - can almost see the gears whirring in his head as he thinks of their time in Sendai. 

"Motoko I'm sor - " 

"No. Not another word." She straightens, and the smile on her face doesn't feel as fake as it has for months. "Okay. I'm glad we had this talk. Even if you were being a dick before." 

"I'm still dropping by with condoms," he threatens. "And lube." 

"Fuck you _,"_ she says without thinking, then groans knowing his response before he makes it. 

"Sorry, I’m going to have to pass on that," he says, a crooked punchable grin on his face. 

“I _will_ hit you,” she threatens, as she swings her door open. Outside her room, Iwaizumi is wearing the floorboards smooth as he paces, starts when she walks through. 

“Hi,” she says, immediately awkward. “I’m sorry.” 

“I’ll leave you kids alone now,” Tetsurou says, hands in his pockets as he slants towards the front door. “Be back to pass you _supplies_ later.” 

“You don’t get to mother me, you mangy cat!”

His hyena laugh can still be heard as the door slams shut, and for a moment, they’re _normal_. Kuroo is being annoying and she threatens bodily harm on him. Completely normal. 

“You okay?” Iwaizumi asks. 

She looks at him - hands stuck in the pockets of his hoodie, thick eyebrows knitted together, the frown on his face carved deeper than his usual expression. 

“No,” she says truthfully. “But I think I will be.” 

He nods at that. 

They go back to the kitchen, because she doesn’t want to think about inviting him into her room, not after the conversation she’s just had with Tetsurou. Iwaizumi had washed up and stacked the plates neatly by the drying stand, she realises. There’s another flask of tea served up.

“I’m sorry about that,” she says and reaches for his hand before he can speak. Whatever he’s about to say is cut off the second her hands wrap around his. “I think. I think I need to be honest about some things.” 

His hands tighten around hers. “Okay.” 

She inhales, trying to remember how she had confessed to Tetsurou. She's not sure that they did, she realises. He had been over in her room doing homework and one of them - she can't remember who - had leaned over and kissed the other on the cheek. 

"I like you," she says to Iwaizumi, who jumps a little in his seat at the words. 

His face seems to work through a range of emotions - minute twitches of the face while his brows are scrunched up together. Finally, he smiles, though the expression is a little sad. "I feel like there's a _but_ there." 

"But." She swallows. "I come with a lot of baggage. And I'm only starting to realise just how much." 

"Ah." 

"It doesn't change the fact that the best parts of my days in the last few months has been talking to you." She licks her lips, trying to figure out how to best phrase the next part. "I really do like you. And I'm happy that you came to Tokyo, even if the last hour has been a mess." 

She ducks her head, unable to look at his face. 

He can still leave, she thinks. For all that he always gives in to Oikawa's antics and her teasing, for all that he's a softie underneath his stern exteriors, she knows he is still steady enough to say no.

"Aoyama." She forces herself to not grip his hands when he speaks. "I thought you were going to tell me 'Thank you for your time, I'm now getting back together with my ex'." 

"Oh." It hadn't occurred to her that he could feel insecure. "No, not at all. That's over and we're going to have to work on the friendship thing for a while before it goes back to normal." She really can't look at him as she says this, knowing that her cheeks are flushed red. "I do like you Hajime. It's not a rebound thing." 

"Aoyama - " 

"And I get that it's selfish, spilling this on you now - " 

"Aoyama shut up for a moment." He takes his hands out of hers and her hands instinctively clench at the sudden empty space. Then there hot hands cupping on her cheeks. "Do you mean it?" 

Somehow, he's crossed the space between them, and is leaning close into her space, eyes intent.

Mean what? She wants to ask. That she had so much baggage weighed on her back she's afraid to set it down to examine? That she's happy he came to Tokyo? That she and Kuroo were messed up and she didn't know how to begin to fix them? 

Her mouth seems to have caught up faster than her brain because it just opens and says "Yes". 

"Okay." His face is red and he's breathing hard, even though he's barely moved. "I'm going to kiss you now. Is that okay?" 

"Yes," her mouth says again, before her brain can do something to fuck it up. 

The first kiss is pressed against the center of her lips, soft and gentle, lingering just long enough so that it can't be classified as a peck. His mouth, like his hands, is warm against her skin. He leans back a little, as though to check if she is okay.

"I'm not going to break, Iwa-kun," she hears herself say while most of her brain is still going trying to commit to memory the feeling of his lips on hers.

If she had said that to Kuroo - she _has_ said that to Kuroo before - he would have smirked, and then bent down to kiss her long and hard.

Iwaizumi just frowns, his lips twisting into some determined expression, then he leans in to kiss her again, one hand cupping her cheek, the other winding around her waist to pull her closer. She gasps at the unexpected touch, and he's slipped his tongue in her mouth, his lips still moving insistently against hers as he licks at the inside of her mouth.

 _Oh,_ a voice in her head says. _Kissing Kuroo was never like this._

 _Shut up about Kuroo_ , she tells her brain, and presses closer to Iwaizumi, one hand reaching to wrap around his neck, the other to rest on his arm. She's no stranger to athletes, but Iwaizumi, she realises, has particularly nice arms, and she can't help but run her fingers on them.

There's a rap, someone clearing his throat, and they spring apart. And of course, it's Kuroo, looming at the kitchen door like a spectre.

"Sorry to interrupt you kids," he says. Iwaizumi groans, then kisses Motoko again as though to make a point. 

"We're the same age, you dick."

Kuroo only smirks, and then tosses a Family Mart plastic bag on the table. "Don't do anything I wouldn't do, kids." He turns to go to the door and of _course_ had to part with "That still does leave you... a lot of options."

The front door slams shut again, and Motoko walks to it to bolt it shut.

She walks back into the kitchen, flushed and apologetic. Iwaizumi's emptied out the contents of the plastic bag on the table. Condoms, as Kuroo had promised, and a brand new bottle of lube.

"Oh god," she says, horrified. A part of her is relieved that Kuroo had, at the very least, gone out to buy them instead of passing her his own supplies. Another part just wants to dig a hole for herself in the garden and stay in there forever.

She takes a peek at Iwaizumi, and wonders if he's just going to gather his things and say that he's just going to stay somewhere else, like the train station, because freezing there would be preferable to this hell, thank you very much.

There's a tic jumping in his jaw, and his hands are clenched into fists at his side.

"Iwaizumi - I'm sorry - " she tries to start.

And then he's laughing. He looks younger, once the usual scowl on his face is gone.

It takes her a moment, but then she's also laughing with him.

The second she stops laughing, Motoko shoves the contents of the plastic bag back into the bag and ties it up. It is, at least, mildy less embarrassing once out of sight. 

"You're dealing with - " She stops, wondering how to describe Kuroo. Her ex? Demon neighbour? Annoying sort of best friend? She just skips it, and waves a hand instead. "Better than I thought." 

"Wait until you meet Oikawa.” He pauses and then shakes his head. "Actually, we can put that one off a little longer."

There are still things they should talk about, Motoko thinks distantly, fingers automatically reaching for a cloth to wipe down the table, the dirty glasses to place in the sink. 

"Are you alright?" 

_Yes,_ is the automatic answer, the one she's given all her life. Yes, she's fine with her parents going on yet another trip, yes her boyfriend’s late for practice again, yes she’s so tired she could cry but yes she's a big girl, yes she can handle things by herself. 

"No," she says slowly, her hand gripping the side of the table so hard her knuckles go completely white. "I need to call my parents.”

Hajime holds her hand when she pulls up her mother's contact and she wants to know what she has done to deserve him. Her mother picks up just as she's about to put down the phone. 

“Motoko? Is everything alright?”

“Mama? When are you coming home?” she hears herself ask. 

**Author's Note:**

> The plot outline was a joke when I messaged a friend and then I thought 'Okay, I'll do like a 3-5k quick one-shot' and then this mushroomed and then I developed Feelings for these characters and many times started to moan about breaking them up. At least I gave Motoko a nice boy in the end. 
> 
> I have never played a game of volleyball in my life and cannot believe I actually attempted to write that in here. But then I've never actually caught and battled Pokemon before either so there we go.
> 
> Please say nice things if you like my writing.


End file.
